


of lost cases and magical creatures

by starryinthesky



Series: fantastic beasts and where to find them AU [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura & Lance (Voltron) are Siblings, Allura is a huge flirt pass it on, BAMF Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), F/M, Fantastic Beasts AU, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gen, Keith is an animal lover, M/M, Muggle Shiro, Post war Shiro, Ryner is the president, Shiro is a baker, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Witch Allura (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:07:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29562342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryinthesky/pseuds/starryinthesky
Summary: Keith honestly had no plans to stay in New York for longer than two days. However, a muggle, a misplaced magical case, and the escape of his magical beasts proves to be quite a disaster that he must fix before the entire wizarding community is exposed to the muggle world.Or: The Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them AU that literally no one asked for
Relationships: Allura/Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: fantastic beasts and where to find them AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2171835
Comments: 5
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

New York City is not so much different from London, Keith decides as he walks down the gangplank. He pushes past others, weaving his way through the bustling crowds and gripping onto his suitcase. Shouts fill the air as people dash past him, some shouting about being late for a ship while others are searching for someone. He glances around for Customs amid the crowded sidewalk, and upon finding the sign, heads over—not without being jostled and pushed around. A latch on his case flips open and he sighs, flipping it shut swiftly.

“Settle down, Kosmo, it won’t be long,” he whispers, and then glances up a second before almost running into a man with a bowler hat and a mustache far too big for his face. Five minutes later, Keith finds himself in front of the Customs Officials desk, who is examining his very tattered passport.

“British, huh?” the customs officer drawls out, studying his picture and then looking up at him, and Keith plasters a fake smile on, hoping he could get out as soon as possible.

“Yes.”

“First trip to New York.”

“Yes.”

“Anything edible in there?”

“No.”

“Livestock?”

Keith’s eyebrows shoot up, and he opens his mouth to speak when the latch flicks open again. He hastily closes it, clearing his throat.

“Must get that fixed—but no.”

“Let me take a look,” the officer says, and Keith very nearly rolls his eyes as he hands over the suitcase. There’s really nothing out of the ordinary in there—just pajamas, toiletries, a couple of maps, his Gryffindor scarf, a magnifying glass; nothing a muggle like the inspector couldn’t find fault with. The inspector closes it after a minute of rifling through, satisfied with what he sees and hands the case back to Keith along with his passport.

“Welcome to New York.”

Times Square is a rather crowded place, and Keith weaves his way through the throngs of people, avoiding and dodging the blaring cars and the exhaust left behind and the occasional carriage here and there and the random crowds of people scattered across the streets, all while clutching his suitcase close to his chest. People are shouting, there’s the smell of gasoline and dust in the air and he coughs several times, wrinkling his nose at the pollution. He holds up the slip of paper that has the address to his hostel to his eyes and then glances around, frowning. Merlin’s Beard, how can anyone find their way around here? He shakes his head and pushes forward.

There’s a horde of people clamoring and shouting near a bank, and intrigued, he weaves his way through the bustling, busy crowds to where a woman in a Puritan dress is standing on a box, enthusiastically and passionately speaking to the mass of people.

“…this great city sparkles with the jewels of man’s invention! Movie theaters, automobiles, the wireless, electric lights—all dazzle and bewitch us!”

Keith slows down, fascinated by this muggle’s words. She is standing in front of a flag that depicts two hands held together with broken wands and red and yellow flames in the background, and three people—two adults and a child—are handing out leaflets, glancing around nervously at the crowd. So these were the anti-witch speakers he’s heard so much about.

“But where there is light there is shadow, friend. Something is stalking our city, wreaking destruction and then disappearing without a trace…we have to fight! Join us, the Second Salemers, in our fight!”

Keith turns away from the speaker, pushing his way through the crowd to keep moving. He has absolutely no idea if she were actually serious about really finding fellow wizards and witches and doing away with them, but he wasn’t too keen on finding out. There’s a man with a streak of white hair amid the black trying to get past him, holding a similar case to his own and stumbling past, making his way through the gathered crowds, and Keith moves aside, stumbling into another young man, who is holding a hot dog and giving him a strange look.

“I—sorry,” he mumbles and just as he’s free of the crowd, the speaker calls out.

“You! Friend!”

He slowly turns around, gesturing to himself, and she nods enthusiastically.So much for making sure he’s not noticed. “What drew you to our meeting today?”

“I—er—“ Keith glances around, startled by the attention the crowd suddenly has on him. “I was just passing by.”

“Are you a seeker?” The woman presses. “Are you a seeker after truth?”

“…More of a chaser, really,” is his reply, half distracted as he tries to figure out how he could get out of this one. Really, he only had one job, which was to find his hostel. How’d he get into this? The woman gives him an appraising look and then turns to the crowd, raising her hands.

“Hear my words and heed my warning, and laugh if you dare: _Witches live among us!_ ”

The three young people behind her spread further into the crowd, pressing leaflets into people’s hands. Some walk away, tossing the leaflets on the floors while others pocket it, and the youngest one scrambles to collect the fallen papers, dusting them off and then neatly restacking it.

“We have to fight together for the sake of our children—for the sake of tomorrow!” She turns to Keith again, who had been trying to back out of the crowd. “What do you say to that, friend?”

Keith opens his mouth to say something, but then stops. He looks down at his case and then back up again, eyes widening. A niffler— _his_ niffler, dear Lord—is sitting on the steps of the bank in front of them, pulling money out of a beggar’s hat. He glances back at the woman, who’s staring at him intently, and then at his niffler. The niffler—Kosmo, he had named him a while ago, maybe a year?—looks up and upon noticing Keith’s undivided attention on him, hurriedly gathers the rest of the coins before scrambling into the bank. Keith jolts forward, pushing his way through the crowd towards the bank.

“Excuse me,” he mutters as he half-walks half-runs towards the bank, and thankfully, the woman doesn’t question it. Keith dashes across onto the steps, trying to keep track of Kosmo when he enters the atrium of the bank, skidding to a halt and looking around frantically. A bank is more commonly known as a niffler's dream, which made it all the worse. Kosmo could be literally anywhere. There are mounds of gold everywhere, silver coins being weighed at every other desk, and Keith feels his frustration mounting. He receives strange looks from the smartly dressed New Yorkers, and one bank employee siddles up to him, coughing to make his presence known.

“Can I help you, sir?” The employee questions, raising a suspicious eyebrow, and Keith clears his throat.

“Uh—No, I was just….just…waiting…—“

He motions to a nearby bench and then backs away from the employee, taking a seat next to the same white-haired streaked guy. Keith’s eyes scan the entire atrium, looking for even a sign of Kosmo.

“Hi,” the guy whispers. “What brings you here?”

“Er—same as you,” Keith says, craning his neck to get a better view on behind a banker’s desk, but to no avail.

“You’re here to get a loan to open up a bakery?”

“Yes,” Keith replies, glancing around and focusing on the pile of gold to the left. Nope, nothing there. Where on Earth could Kosmo have gone?

“What are the odds of that?” The guy laughs to himself. “Well, may the best man win, I guess.”

Keith’s eyes focus on another bench not too far from his current position, and a slight movement has him frowning and tilting his head downwards to see as much as he can see under the bench. To his horror, Kosmo is digging through someone’s purse, and Keith leaps up, his eyes trained on the niffler.

“Excuse me,” he says to the man, darting towards where Kosmo is. The niffler spots him and bounds away, jumping between cases and into different bags, and Keith curses under his breath as he pursues Kosmo, slipping past business-people and somehow ending up in a line for a bank teller. He cranes his neck, peering towards the bag of a lady at the front line, and then frowns, pausing as he hears the sound of coins spilling from underneath a bench. He turns slowly to see small paws hastily gathering them up and then starts forwards, diving under the bench to grab Kosmo. Kosmo scuttles out of Keith’s reach, fat and smug from the amount of gold and money he had collected, and runs over the bank counter screens, far, far out of Keith’s reach.

Keith gets up, brushing himself off and ignoring strange stares from others, cursing under his breath. He runs over to the security bars, watching, aghast, as Kosmo sits on top of a trolley covered in money bags, greedily stuffing more and more into his pouch, and helplessly stands by as a guard pushes the cart away down a corridor, Kosmo on top.

“Hey, Mr. English guy!” He hears someone shout and he gives a start, turning around to the same white-hair streaked guy calling out. “I think your egg is hatching!”

Keith glances hurriedly between the guy and the shutting elevator doors, and then sighs, knowing he most definitely will be regretting this decision. God, he regrets even coming close to the bank, what was he even thinking? He pulls out his wand and points it at the guy, and both he and the egg are pulled towards Keith across the atrium, and grabbing the lapels of the guy’s blazer, Keith disapparates in broad daylight. Oh, he’s going to be in so much trouble if he’s caught, he thinks.

They apparate in a narrow stairwell, which Keith surmises leads up to the bank’s vaults, which is perfect. They were past the tellers and security guards, so all he needed to do is to march down to the vaults and drag Kosmo out, using any measures necessary. But first…Keith turns to the guy, gently taking the hatching egg from the other’s hands, and holds it up to his face as the guy splutters and looks around. The egg hatches to reveal a small, blue baby Occamy, and Keith beams, looking up at the guy. He then turns around and carries the Occamy down the stairs, followed by the muggle, who must have still been in shock.

“I was there—I was…over there?” Is the faint muttering Keith could here, but he pays no attention. Crouching down, Keith opens his case, gently coaxing the newly-born Occamy inside.

“There you go,” he whispered, gently pushing the creature forward. “That’s right…”

“Hello?” He hears the guy say. He can hear clamors coming up from inside the case and he frowns, leaning closer.

“No,” Keith adds, talking to the case. “No, everyone settle down now—stay. No, no—don’t make me come in there now…”

Keith looks up, looking up just in time to see Kosmo squeezing himself through the locked doors of the central vault and he immediately whips out his wand.

“Oh no, absolutely not! _Alohomora_!”

The locks of the doors turn and clink together, and the doors slowly start to open. Keith stands up, brushing himself off and picking up his case, just as a muggle teller comes down. Perfect timing, indeed. The muggle exclaims in shock and horror, hitting a button on the wall and setting off an alarm. Keith whips around and shouts, “ _Petrificus Totalus!_ ”

The muggle stiffens and falls to the ground, eyes bulging, and the muggle who had the unfortunate luck of meeting Keith to begin with shouts out in horror. Keith turns around just as the door swings open and he hurries in, finding a huge mess left by Kosmo as the said niffler rifles through drawers, seated on cash. Kosmo turns around and stares at Keith, as if daring him to challenge him and forces another gold bar into his already overflowing pouch.

“Really?” Keith scoffs, lunging forward to grab the creature. He turns Kosmo upside down, shaking him vigorously. An extraordinary amount of precious items fall out of Kosmo’s pouch, and there seems to be no end to the amount of goods the niffler hoarded. Keith tickles Kosmo’s stomach, grinning as the niffler squirmed in his hands, trying to get Keith to let go, and more treasure falls out just as several armed guards run down and appear in the vault corridor.

“Oh God—don’t shoot, don’t shoot!” The muggle cries out, hands raised in the air, and Keith darts forward, a strong grip on Kosmo and his face, and grabbing the muggle’s arm, disapparates again.

They appear onto a side street in New York, and the sound of security alarms ring out from the bank’s general direction. Police sirens can be heard wailing in the background as people clamor around the bank. Keeping a firm grip on Kosmo, Keith kneels down and flicks open the latch to his case, wrestling Kosmo in.

“For the last time—paws off what doesn’t belong to you!” He bites out as he forces a viciously-fighting Kosmo in, and the guy looks on, slightly horrified. Finally— _finally_ —Keith manages to get Kosmo in and shut the case before the niffler caused any more trouble, and then looks up at the guy.

“I’m awfully sorry about all that—“

“What the _hell_ was that?” The man interrupts, and Keith sighs, getting up and rolling back his sleeves.

“Nothing that need concern you,” Keith assures him. “Now unfortunately, you’ve seen _far_ too much, so if you wouldn’t mind—“

He raises his wand to wipe the muggle’s memory, but the muggle is faster, grabbing a case and swinging it violently at Keith, who is knocked to the ground with a pained shout.

“Sorry—“ The muggle says and then dashes away, hurrying down the alleyway and into the crowd and then….disappearing.

“Goddamn it,” Keith curses under his breath, rubbing his temple as he gets up and gathers himself, picking up the case. He walks briskly down the alleyway, digging in his pocket for the address and then the next time he blinks, he’s in a cramped, bricked up alleyway with another wizard looking pissed to high hell and holding a wand to Keith’s throat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> of angry wizards and mismatched cases

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the hits and kudos ^^ as always, feedback is welcomed here, and I hope you enjoy this chapter :))

“Who are you?”

So. Keith is currently at wand point, pushed up against the dirty brick wall, and face to face with a furious wizard. This trip to America is only getting better and better.

“I’m sorry?” Keith stammers out, and the wizard glares, pushing the wand into his neck. Keith tries to move his neck to alleviate some pressure, but the wizard doesn’t let him.

“Who _are_ you?” The wizard bites out again, and Keith glances at the wand, cross-eyed, before looking back up at the wizard.

“Er—Keith Kogane. And you are…?”

“What’s that… _thing_ in your case?” The wizard demanded, eyes flicking towards Keith’s case.

“That’s my niffler.”

The wizard scoffs, appalled. “Why— _why_ —did you let that thing loose?”

“Well, it’s not like I meant to,” Keith replies, frowning in annoyance. “He’s incorrigible, you see, anything shiny, he’s all over the place—“

The wizard arches an eyebrow, and Keith resists the urge to grab the wand and push it away. That…probably would make things worse.

“You didn’t mean to?”

“Uh…no?”

The wizard throws his hands in the air in exasperation, relieving Keith of the pressure building up against his neck, and turns around. “You could _not_ have chosen a worse time to let that creature loose! We’re in the middle of a situation here!”

“Huh?”

He turns around after what seems like forever, a grim look on his face. “I’m taking you in.”

“I’m sorry, you’re taking me where?” Keith asks, crossing his arms, and the wizard digs in the pocket of his coat and pulls out a badge. He opens it and displays it in front of Keith’s face, and upon inspection, it reads that the wizard’s name is Lance McClain, and next to the name is his moving portrait and the symbol of MACUSA: a giant American eagle. He looks up, a bit nervous.

“Magical Congress of the United States of America,” Lance McClain declares.

“So…you work for MACUSA? What are you, some kind of investigator?”

Lance hesitates, something clouding over his face before he nods. “Yeah, something like that.”

He stuffs his ID card back into his coat. “Can you at least tell me you took care of the No-Maj?”

“The _what_?”

Lance throws him an irritated look. “The No-Maj? No-magic—“ he gestures with his hands wildly. “The non-wizard!”

“Oh, sorry, we call them Muggles back home,” Keith explains patiently, and Lance huffs in exasperation.

“You wiped his memories, right? The No-Maj with the case?”

Keith looks away, suddenly finding that discarded cigarette near the wall rather fascinating. So much litter everywhere, it’s quite annoying, really. Muggles don’t know how to clean up after themselves, clearly. “Uh…”

“You didn’t,” Lance says in a hushed whisper, and Keith looks back up at him defensively.

“Well, funny story—“

“That’s a Section 3A, Mr. Kogane,” Lance says, shaking his head. “I’m taking you in.”

He grabs Keith by the arm and they Disapparate again, barely giving Keith any time to register what is going on. They reappear in front of an ornately carved, incredibly tall skyscraper on the corner of a bustling street, and Keith stops and stares at it, but Lance pulls him along, almost dragging him by the coat sleeve. New York is so much more crowded, so much more busy and there are so many buildings of different types. Keith’s seen a lot, but cities still never fails to amaze him.

“Come on,” Lance snaps, and Keith pulls back from Lance’s vice-like grip.

“Er—sorry, but I do have things to do, actually.”

“Well, you’ll have to rearrange them,” Lance argues back, forcefully guiding Keith through the busy traffic of New York. “What are you even doing in New York anyway?”

“I came to buy a birthday present,” Keith replies, and Lance gives him an irritated look.

“Couldn’t you have done that in London?”

They stop outside the ornate looking building—the Woolworth building, and Keith gives Lance a confused look. Workers are moving in and out of the large revolving door, and Lance pushes him forward.

“Well, no, there’s only one breeder of Appaloosa Puffskeins in the world and he lives in New York…”

They move past a man in a cloaked uniform who guards the door, and Lance coughs to gain his attention.

“I’ve got a Section 3A.”

Whatever a Section 3A is, it had to be bad as the guard’s eyes widens and opens the door immediately, leading into a normal office atrium with people milling around chatting. Lance pulls him along, taking long strides that Keith jogs to keep up with while looking around.

“Hey.” Keith glances over at Lance at his sharp tone. “By the way, we closed that guy down a year ago. We don’t allow the breeding of magical creatures in New York.”

“Ah.”

They walk through another door, and everything magical transforms from Woolworth to a more magical looking atrium that can only be MACUSA. They move up a wide staircase and Keith looks around in awe as the enter the main lobby and everything is… _wow_. Owls circulate through the high, high ceilings and there’s a huge dial high up that has many cogs and faces, emblazoned with the words “Magical Exposure Threat Level”. Currently, it’s at “Severe: Unexplained Activity”. So that’s what Lance was probably referring to, huh? Behind the dial, though, there’s a portrait of an impressive-looking woman, who had to be the president of MACUSA. Lance and Keith reach an elevator, and the door opens to reveal a goblin bellboy.

“Hey, McClain,” the goblin drawls, and Lance arches an eyebrow.

“Hey, Red.”

Lance pushes Keith inside, and the doors close.

“Major Investigation Department,” Lance tells the goblin Red, and Red gives him a strange look.

“I thought you was—“

“ _Major Investigation Department_! I’ve got a Section 3A!”

Red rolls his eyes and presses an elevator button above his head with a long clawed stick, and the elevator jolts before descending. They arrive at the department, and Lance suddenly looks more scared, more nervous. He jerks his head at Keith, telling him to follow him, and they walk out, approaching a group and Keith recognizes one of them—the president, whose portrait was in the atrium. The said woman looks up, her expression angry but contained.

“I made your position here _quite_ clear, Mr. McClain.”

Lance inhales sharply. “Yes, Madam President, but I—“

“You are no longer an Auror,” she says, and Keith whips his head around to look at Lance. Wait, what? So he was dragged all the way here by someone who isn’t an Auror at all? He can’t find it in himself to be annoyed or mad at Lance, though; the wizard looks terrified and embarrassed.

“No, Madam President, but—“

“ _McClain_.”

“There’s been a minor incident—“ Lance pushes forward, but the witch holds up her hand.

“This office is currently concerned with very major incidents.” She fixes Lance with a harsh stare. “Get out.”

Lance bows his head, humiliation coloring his cheeks. “Yes, ma’am.”

He grabs Keith by the elbow and pushes them towards the elevator, not meeting his eyes, and upon giving Red new instructions, the elevator hurtles down, down, down, and opens up to a cramped, airless, windowless basement room. It’s quite dreary, and Keith ducks as they walk in, avoiding a flying…paper airplane? There are hundreds of typewriters clacking away and each memo written folds itself into an origami rat, scurrying up the hanging tubes from the ceiling. Keith watches, fascinated, as two rats collide and then fight, tearing each other apart.

Lance stops at the Wand Permit Office, which is only slightly larger than a cupboard, and there are piles of unopened wand applications scattered everywhere. Lance stops behind a desk, removing his coat and hat, and then busies himself with the papers, not looking at Keith.

“So, you got your wand permit?” Lance finally asks, shuffling through the papers. “All foreigners have to have them in New York.”

Keith hesitates. “Uh…I made a postal application weeks ago.”

Lance takes a seat, scribbling something on a clipboard, and then flips a page. “Kogane….” He looks up, squinting at him. “And you were just in Equatorial Guinea?”

Keith nods. “I’ve just completed a year in the field. I’m writing a book about magical creatures.”

“Like an extermination guide?” Lance says, cocking his head to the side, drumming the pencil on the notepad, and Keith frowns.

“What? No, no, not at all. A guide to help people understand why we should be protecting these creatures instead of killing them.”

Just then, a shout rings out through the halls, startling the two of them.

“McClain? Where is he? Where is he….McClain!”

Lance’s eyes widen comically and he ducks behind his desk, and Keith grins, amused. A man bustles into the room, looking around, exasperated, and then eyes the desk behind which Lance is hidden. He sighs, and then shouts out, “McClain!”

Lance slowly emerges from behind the desk, a guilty expression plastered on his face.

“Did you just butt in on the Investigative Team again?” The man asks, and Lance opens his mouth to say something but is cut off. “Where’ve you been?”

“Er…what?”

The man turns to Keith, scoffing as if to say, ‘can you believe this guy?’. “Where’d he pick you up?”

“Who, me?” Keith says, pointing to himself, and then quickly looks at Lance, who is giving him a look of desperation, shaking his head. Please, Lance mouths, and Keith hesitates before looking back at the man, saying nothing. The man huffs, clearly agitated, and then turns to Lance. “Have you been tracking them Second Salemers again?”

“Of course not, sir,” Lance says immediately, adopting a look of innocence. Another wizard—one of the wizards Keith saw crowded around that table in the Investigation department—comes around the corner, and the wizard heckling them immediately starts groveling.

“Afternoon, Mr. Niko, sir!”

“Afternoon, ah—Morvok.”

Lance steps forward immediately, speaking quickly and eagerly. “Mr. Niko, sir, this is Mr. Kogane—he has this _crazy_ creature in that case and it got out and caused mayhem in the bank, sir!” He points at Keith’s case for emphasis, and Keith shoots him an annoyed look.

“Let’s see the little guy, then,” Niko says, rolling up his sleeves, and Lance visibly sags with relief. Keith opens his mouth, protectively holding his case away, but Niko dismisses him. Lance grabs the case from Keith, tugging it out of Keith’s tight grip and places it onto the table gently, clicking the latches before throwing open the lid. He looks inside and gasps, aghast.Keith approaches it, nervous by Lance’s reaction, and then his eyes widen, horrified. There were…pastries. Pastries in his case. The case that was supposed to have his creatures. If he had the case of pastries, then….he shoots a terrified look at Lance, who mirrors the exact same expression. Niko, next to them, clicks his tongue, smirking slightly.

“Lance…”

He turns on his heel and walks away, leaving Lance and Keith staring at the case in horror.

“This isn’t your case.” Lance finally breaks the silence, coming out of his shock, and Keith numbly shakes his head.

“No.”

“So…are you saying that that _No-Maj_ has your case of magical creatures?” Lance’s voice rises hysterically, and Keith doesn’t know how to reply without causing Lance to panic. His expression must’ve said it all, as a wave of emotions pass across Lance’s face before resolving into an unreadable expression.

“Well?” He growls, turning on his heel. “Let’s go find that No-Maj.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> of exploding apartments and sick muggles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos and comments ^^ i hope you enjoy this chapter !!

_“My momma, your momma,_

_Gonna catch a witch,_

_My momma, your momma,_

_Flying on a switch,_

_My momma, your momma,_

_Witches never cry,_

_My momma, your momma,_

_Witches gonna die!”_

A young girl of about eight years old is skipping in and out of the chalked grid on the floor, playing a solitary variation of hopscotch. Behind her is a dingy wooden church with darkened, dusty windows and a high mezzanine balcony, and she hums to herself as she skips to the next number. The banner with the hands meeting and the broken wands and flames are hung up high behind her, leaflets everywhere. Another young woman, older than the girl, steps out, ringing a bell, and children stream into the church, past the little girl skipping on her hopscotch.

“ _…Witch number three,_

_Gonna watch her burn,_

_Witch number four, flogging_

_Take a turn_.”

“Modesty,” the young woman calls out, and Modesty stops skipping, turning around. “Come on.”

Modesty stares dully back before dutifully gathering her chalks in her skirt and trotting into the church, the young woman casting a suspicious glance outside before shutting the door gently.

—

Keith never felt so scared of someone in his life. Well, as far as he can remember. Lance is walking next to him, clutching the case and a dark look on his face, lips pressed into thin line.

“I can’t _believe_ you didn’t Obliviate that man!” He snaps, glancing at Keith, and Keith doesn’t reply. “If there’s an inquiry, I’m finished!”

“Wait a bit, why would you be finished? I’m the one that—“ Keith started, and Lance grit his teeth.

“I’m not supposed to go near the Second Salemers.”

Just then, a small blue creature with helicopter like wings on its head—a Billywig—zooms across the street, pausing in front of them for a millisecond before zooming away. Keith watches it, part horrified, and by looking at Lance’s expression, Keith knows that Lance had seen it too.

“What was that?”

“Uh—dunno, a moth. A big one,” Keith hurries to reply. He really didn’t want a more angry Lance. A more angrier Lance is not good. Lance gives him a dubious look, and as they round the corner, the clamor of a crowd grows louder and louder and the crowd is now situated in front of a crumbling building. People are shouting as others quickly evacuate the building, and a policeman is being harassed by who could be assumed to be the tenement dwellers.

Keith and Lance move around the crowd and are pushed as a drunken man hollers out to the policeman.

“It warn’t gas—hey Officer, I seen it!—wuzza—gigantic—a huge hippopotto—“

Keith quickly pulls out his wand and points it at the drunk man, who then agrees with the officer, saying, “—gas. It was gas.”

There are murmurs of agreement across the crowd, and Keith looks around again to see Lance’s eyes following the Billywig. Keith darts towards the metal steps, pushing past the protesting policemen, and runs inside the building, looking for the source. It had to be his case, there’s no other explanation for the drunk man’s ramblings. He can hear groaning and Keith climbs the steps two at a time, running towards the sound and skids to a halt, stopping at a completely demolished room.

There are footprints, broken furniture, shattered glass everywhere, and as Keith takes in the damage, his eyes land on the huge hole in the opposite wall. Clearly something huge had blasted its way out, and Keith steps in, looking for his case. He takes another step forward but catches sight of the same muggle he’d had the unfortunate luck to burden lying on his back, unconscious.

“Oh dear,” Keith murmurs as he crouches next to the muggle, and upon turning the muggle’s head to the side, examines the bite mark on his neck. Well, he tries to. The muggle keeps unconsciously batting him away.

“Mr. Kogane?” He hears Lance call out, and he swears under his breath, whipping around and waving his wand, performing a repair charm. Just as Lance enters the room, the room looks perfectly back to normal: no giant holes in the wall, no shattered glass, no askew furniture, and he’s sitting on the bed, sealing the latches on his case and trying his best to look innocent and composed.

“It was _open_?” Lance exclaims, and Keith grimaces.

“Just a bit…”

“Is that crazy niffler on the loose again?” He demands, striding into the room, and Keith shrugs sheepishly.

“It…might be?”

“Then?” Lance is towering over him, hands on his hips. “Look for it! Look! Go on!”

He kicks at Keith’s legs, and Keith scrambles away from Lance, getting up and off the bed, holding the case to his chest protectively.

“Stop kicking me!”

“Well, I’ll stop when you start looking!”

Just then, the muggle groans, and Lance’s eyes widen before dropping the case full of pastries and hurrying over straight to the muggle. He props the muggle’s head up, turning his head around and finding the wound.

“His neck’s bleeding, he’s hurt! Hey, Mr. No-Maj, wake up—“

With the muggle taking up Lance’s attention, Keith edges towards the door, suitcase in hands, and he might be able to make it without Lance noticing so he can go look for his creatures and get the hell out of here—

Lance lets out a loud shriek and leaps back, trying to shake a creature off his arm and Keith lunges forward, grabbing the creature by the tail and forcing it into his case.

“What the _hell_ is that?” Lance gasps out, backed up against the wall and staring at Keith’s case, horrified.

“That’s nothing to worry about, just a Murtlap,” Keith replies, shutting the case with a soft click.

“What else have you got in there?”

Keith doesn’t think he really wants to reply, but before he can, the muggle is awake and staring at Keith.

“You!” The muggle gasps out, and Lance shoots a furtive look at Keith before turning to the muggle.

“Easy, Mr.—“

“Shirogane….Takashi—but they call me Shiro…“

Lance grabs Mr. Shirogane hand and shakes it.

“Well, Mr. Shirogane—“

Keith raises his wand, pointing it at Shiro, who recoils in fear, eyes darting from Lance to Keith. Lance stands up, standing in front of Keith’s wand andeffectively shielding Shiro.

“You can’t possibly Obliviate him now! He’s a witness!” Lance exclaims, crossing his arms, and Keith’s wand dips a bit as he glares at Lance.

“I’m sorry—you’ve just yelled at me the length of New York for not doing it in the first place—“

“But he’s hurt! He looks sick!” Lance argues, waving at hand at Shiro, and Keith sighs loudly.

“He’ll be fine,” he says dismissively, stowing away his wand in his coat. “Murtlap bites aren’t very serious.”

Lance raises his eyebrows at Keith, glancing at Shiro, who has taken to dry retching into a corner, and then back at Keith with a look of disbelief.

“Okay, well, I admit that Shiro here has a slightly more severe reaction than I’ve seen, but if it were really serious—well…” Keith trails off, and Lance clicks his tongue in exasperation.

“What?” He snaps at Keith.

“Well, the first symptom would be flames out of his ass—“

“What?!” Shiro yelps, looking around and feeling his pants, and Lance groans into his hands, running it down his face and then looking up at the ceiling.

“This is really, _really_ fucked up,” Lance announces to no one in particular.

“It’ll last forty-eight hours at most!” Keith reassures Lance to no avail. “I can keep him if you want me to—“

“Oh, keep him?” Lance laughs humorlessly. “We don’t keep them! Mr. Kogane, do you know anything— _anything_ —about the wizarding community in America?” Lance stabs a finger at Keith’s chest for emphasis, and Keith brushes him off in annoyance.

“I actually do know a few things,” he retorts. “I know you have rather backward laws about relations with non-magic people. What, you’re not meant to befriend them, that you can’t marry them—which is quite absurd if you ask me.”

Lance scoffs, turning to Shiro, who’s gazing at them, open-mouthed and quite in shock.

“Well, you’re both coming with me—“ Lance says, struggling to lift the partly conscious Shiro from the floor, and Keith shakes his head, watching Lance struggle.

“Well, I don’t see why I need to come with you, so if you’ll excuse me—“

“You caused this mess,” Lance bites out. “So you’re gonna help, so God help me—“

Keith grumbles and stalks over, lifting Shiro by the other arm and effectively supporting him.

“I’m—I’m dreaming, right?” Shiro mumbles, head lolling to the side and eyes half closed. “Yeah…I’m tired, I never went….to the bank. This is just some big nightmare, right?”

He looks at Lance blearily and Lance shakes his head. “For the both of us, Mr. Shirogane.”

The three of them disapparate, leaving behind a precariously hanging portrait of an old woman on the chipped wall and a relatively banged up room.

They apparate on a narrower street—Brownstone Street, a sign reads—and Lance and Keith try to keep Shiro steady.

“W-what—“ Shiro stumbles over his words, disoriented, and Lance sighs.

“It’s alright, Mr. Shirogane, apparation is quite discombobulating at first,” he says, and then glances around, pulling them forward. “Take a right here.”

Shiro twitches a bit as Lance drags them along, the bite clearly affecting him more than usual, and as they round the corner, Lance ushers them behind a large repair truck.

“What—“ Keith starts, and Lance shushes him, peering around at a house across the street. He looks back at the two, casting a glance back at the house.

“Okay, before we go in, I’m not really supposed to bring other men on the premises—“

“In that case, then,” Keith says, “Mr. Shirogane and I can easily seek other accommodation—“

“Oh no you don’t!”

Lance reaches forward and takes Shiro’s arm, pulling him across the road, and Keith sighs before trodding after Lance as they walk towards the house.

“Watch your step,” Lance advises as they enter the building. He shuts the door behind Keith, Shiro ahead of them, and the building falls into darkness, the only light source a flickering, broken light. Lance gestures at them and carefully walks towards the stairs, slowly climbing up to avoid any creaking stairs. Keith and Shiro follow in Lance’s exact footsteps, and they reach the first landing when a woman calls out. They all freeze, Lance looking around, his eyes wide.

“That you, Lance?”

Lance shoots him and Shiro a look to remain silent, and then turns around. “Yes, Mrs. Esposito!”

“Are you alone?”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m _always_ alone, Mrs. Esposito!”

It falls silent, and it’s deemed safe enough to continue when the landlady doesn’t say anything else. They finally reach the apartment, and Lance pushes open the door, hustling them in before casting a glance down the hallway and shutting the door behind them.

Keith looks around, quite taken with the atmosphere of Lance’s apartment. It is so much unlike the foster homes he’s bounced through during his Hogwarts years, and it feels lived in. It feels like _home_. Everything seems to be running on magic; an iron is working away in the corner on some clothes, a clotheshorse is standing in front of the fire, rotating every now and then as some clothes dry, and magazines are scatted across the couches and coffee table.

“Lance? Is that you?” A woman’s voice echoes from inside the apartment, and Lance props his hat and coat on the coat hanger.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he replies, and the woman steps out, surveying them. She is clearly gorgeous; long, white hair tumbling down her back and skin a rich dark chocolate tone. Her piercing blue eyes focus on them, a darker shade of blue, and she looks at Lance, raising an eyebrow.

“And you’ve brought guests,” she points out, and he rolls his eyes.

“Gentlemen, meet my sister Allura,” Lance announces, attempting to tidy the living room a bit as Allura studies them.

“Who are they?” She asks as she sweeps over, helping Lance, and Lance straightens up, glancing at Keith.

“That’s Mr. Kogane. He’s committed a serious infraction of the National Statute of Secrecy—“

“So he’s a criminal, then?” Allura interrupts, shooting Keith an unreadable look, and Keith feels vaguely uncomfortable under her stare.

“—yeah, and that’s Mr. Shirogane, he’s a No-Maj—“

“What? A No-Maj?” Allura frowns at Shiro, and then at her brother. “Lance, what are you up to?”

“Well, he’s sick—really, ‘Lura, it’s a long story—and Mr. Kogane here lost something, I’m going to help him find it.”

Allura pinches the bridge of her nose, eyes closed, and then let out a deep breath, opening her eyes and wearily looking at everyone in the room.

“You’d better come in.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> of dinner meals and different worlds 
> 
> TW: flashback of non-descriptive unknown character death (marked [[[. ]]])

The Garrison multimedia empire is growing, thriving—in all ways, successful. Journalists filter in and out of the door, all hard at work, shuffling through papers and reading it out loud to another person and writing down ideas on a notepad. The elevator opens, and Katie Holt walks out, leading the Second Salemers in and heading towards the office down the room.

“…and this is the newsroom,” she says to the group she is escorting, and the older woman nods, composed and polite. The younger ones display a wide range of emotions: shy, excited, curious, nervous. As they move through the office, some workers give them a second glance, purely out of recognition, but no one else bothers. They stop at the double doors at the end of the open-plan area, and the man guarding the door stands up, looking worried.

“Ms. Holt, ma’am, he’s with the senator—“

“I’ve got something more important than what Matt is working on,” Katie interrupts, and pushes past the poor assistant. He pushes open the doors, giving way to a large, impressive office with spectacular views across the city. In front of the desk, the famous Sam Holt is talking to his older son Matthew—Matt—Holt.

“I-I’m so sorry, sir, but your daughter—“ the assistant bumbles, and Sam Holt waves a hand, dismissing the assistant.

“Katie, what is it now?” He says wearily, sighing and removing his spectacles.

“Father, please at least listen to me for this,” she almost begs, and he gives a nod, prompting her to continue. She steps forward, letting the photographs, newspapers, and maps she had been carrying spill on his desk.

“This is something huge—“

“If this is about the witchcraft thing again, Katie—“

“Father, please, I found some evidence we can start investigating! Imagine what we can do to our world if there truly is magic!”

“Katie…”

The Second Salemers shuffle into the room, and her father gives them an appraising look.

“I—This is Mary Lou Barebone from the New Salem Philanthropic Society, and she has a big story for you,” Katie rushes to say, ready to prove to her father that she truly does have something for him to look at, and Sam shakes his head.

“Really? Katie, them?”

“No, no—There’s really strange things happening, Father, all over the city. There’s no plausible explanation for them—I know, I checked,” she added at her brother’s and father’s dubious looks. “This has to be something more than just accidents in our world. Mary Lou knows more about these incidents. Please hear her out, Father.”

“Katie.”

“You don’t have to pay her, she doesn’t want money!”

“I’m sorry, Katie, but this is a media empire. No one gives anything valuable for free, so either her story is worthless or she’s lying about the cost,” Sam shakes his head, and Katie huffs, crossing her arms.

“You are right, Mr. Holt,” the smooth, persuasive voice of Mary Lou cuts through the tense silence. “What we desire is infinitely more valuable than money: It’s your influence. People need to be aware of this danger and millions of people read your newspaper.”

That’s the one thing Katie Holt disagrees with Mary Lou and the Second Salemers, but she remains silent. They want to do away with magic. Katie wants to utilize it. Imagine all the technology they could build! How much more their world would benefit from it! But first? She needed to gain her father’s approval and support. Only he could fund and support her investigations and experiments. But right now, she needs to make it look like she believes the Second Salemers so she had additional proof.

“Katie, please escort them out of this room,” Sam Holt calmly says, putting on his glasses, and Katie tenses.

“No, Father, just look at the evidence—“

“Katie—“

“Katie, let’s discuss this later,” her brother Matt interrupts, and she shoots him an annoyed look.

“Matt, you know what I’m talking about—“

“Katie, please,” Matt says, glancing at their father, and she seems to deflate, sighing. “Like I said. Later today, we’ll talk.”

“Fine.”

Katie turns around, ready to lead the group out, but before they can go, Mary Lou stops.

“We hope you’ll reconsider, Mr. Shaw. We’re not difficult to find. Until then, we thank you for your time.”

With that, she spins around and marches out, the younger ones trailing behind her. As they depart, a leaflet flutters to the ground, and Matt reaches forward and picks it up, handing it to the boy.

“Hey, you dropped something,” he says, handing it to the boy. The boy’s head jerks in a nod, and then backs away before turning around hurrying out with the rest of the Second Salemers.

—

Keith glances out the window of the apartment, trying to figure out a way to get out of this one. He pulls the curtain just a tad aside, hoping to spot one of his creatures. But of course, there are none on the street.

“You should sit down,” Allura advises, sweeping over to Shiro and guiding him to a couch. Shiro really doesn’t look good—it’s quite different from all the different cases of Murtlap bites Keith has seen. But then again, Shiro is a muggle. Muggles have much different constitutions.

“—he hasn’t eaten all day. And—oh, that’s so unfortunate, I’m so sorry you didn’t get the money for the bakery—“ Allura remarks, trailing off, and Keith gives her a curious look.

“You’re a Legilimens?” He asks, and she shrugs.

“Yes, I am. Your kind is quite a bit of trouble to read, though.”  
“How do you mean?”

“Brits,” Allura promptly replies. “It’s the accent.”

“Y-you can read minds?” Shiro gapes at Allura, and she raises an eyebrow before shaking her head and turning away, heading towards another room on the other side.

“You two should probably eat,” she says, and turns to Keith. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Er—“

She gives him a disappointed look, flicking on a light switch, and stopping next to her brother as they busied themselves in the kitchen. Allura waves her wand as the cupboards open and ingredients come floating out and vegetables are chopped and the pans clatter on the stove.

“Really? Another hot dog?” He can hear Allura murmur under her breath to Lance, and Lance gives her an annoyed look.

“Don’t read my mind!”

“Not really wholesome, is it?” She shakes her head, and Lance scoffs.

“Shut up,” he mutters, jabbing his wand at the cupboards and dishes and cutlery land on the table with a clink. Shiro watches all this, open-mouthed, and Keith moves towards the door, hand reaching out for the handle—he can still get out of this while they’re distracted, and yeah, it might be rude but he won’t see them again—

“Hey.” He turns around, and Allura raises an eyebrow. “Mr. Kogane, you prefer pie or strudel?”

He quickly removes his hand from the doorknob, embarrassed that he was caught, and Lance gives him a confrontational, yet disappointed and even hurt look. Oh.

“I really don’t have a preference,” he replies, and Allura turns to Shiro.

“Sit down, sit down,” she ushers him, and he stumbles to the table. “What do you prefer?—Strudel, huh? Strudel it is.”

She flicks her wand, and the pastry and fruits rise in the air, wrapping and twisting around itself until it forms a sort of cylindrical pie, baking on the spot and then completed with decoration and a dusting of sugar. It lands on a plate in the center of the table, and Lance points his wand at the candles, lighting them. There’s a small squeak, and Keith’s bowtruckle—Nova—pokes his head out of Keith’s pocket, curious, and Keith pats his pocket subconsciously, eliciting another click from Nova.

“Well?” Lance says, raising an eyebrow. “Sit down, Mr. Kogane. We’re not going to poison you.”

Shiro shoots Keith a glare, gesturing for him to listen to the siblings, and Keith complies, moving away from the door and taking a seat.

The meal goes by with minimal awkwardness, Keith would like to say, but really, it was Allura and Shiro who made it less awkward. They seemed to have warmed up to each other, and Shiro looks much better, having eaten something. He still does appear rather ill and pale, though. Keith will have to take a look at that.

“So what do you do?” Shiro asks, curious, and Allura shrugs, eyes downcast.

“I do what I can in MACUSA, really. Not many jobs they can offer to someone like me, right?” She says, and Lance shakes his head.

“They’re idiots, don’t believe what they say for a second, ‘Lura,” he says, and she sighs, glancing at Shiro.

“Well, to answer your question, I mostly just do the paperwork, running the referrals over, make coffee sometimes…Lance has the real career between the two of us.”

“Not anymore,” he mutters, and she snorts.  
“Yeah, you kind of blew it.”

Allura turns back to Shiro, silent for a bit and then smiles. “No, we’re both orphans. My mother died when I was a baby. My stepmother—Lance’s mother—and our father died later of dragon pox….Yeah, we’re half-siblings, but that don’t mean nothing when it comes to how close we are,” she adds, shooting a smile at Lance, who returns it.

“Er—Could you stop reading my mind for a second?” Shiro says, and then backpedals immediately, much to Allura’s clear amusement. “I mean, that’s really cool, and wow—this is probably the best thing I’ve ever had. You’re an amazing cook, you know that?”

Allura beams, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement and Lance gives Shiro a questioning look. His eyes then flit towards Keith and an amused smile plays on his lips at his sister and Shiro’s conversation. Keith does his best to return it.

“Oh, you’re too kind,” Allura replies, smiling. “You should have seen me a couple years ago, I’d burn anything on the stove. Lance taught me a lot of it.”

“That’s amazing,” Shiro enthuses, and then it’s quiet as they smile at each other. Lance clearly looks uncomfortable now, and it would be safe to say that Keith never felt this awkward before as well. Allura then jerks back, glaring at Lance.

“Lance, don’t be ridiculous.”

“What—“

“I’m not flirting at all!”

Lance’s face flushes, and he glances up at Shiro and then at Allura. “I’m just saying—just don’t get too attached to him, he needs to be Obliviated, okay?” He turns to Shiro. “It’s nothing personal.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Allura mutters, and Lance rolls his eyes, stabbing his fork at a piece of carrot. As the meal ended, it seemed clear that Shiro still hasn’t recovered from the bite, which seemed to have garnered Allura’s attention and concern.

“Oh, hey, are you alright?” Allura asks Shiro, concerned, and Keith briskly gets up, moving behind his chair awkwardly.

“Mr. McClain,” he says, turning to Lance. “I think Mr. Shirogane can do with an early night. And besides, you and I will need to be up early tomorrow morning to find my Niffler, so—“

“Niffler?” Allura asks Lance, and Lance looks put out.

“Don’t ask.”

He gets up, moving towards the back room, entering the room and arranging a few things by the sound of it before popping his head out.

“Okay, you guys can bunk in here.”

The beds are comfortable. Keith will give them that. They’re now situated in neatly made twin beds, and Shiro is flipping through a spare wizarding book while Keith is laying on his side, facing the wall. He has a plan—not a really good one, but it’ll have to do. It just requires Lance and Allura to be asleep. Not Shiro, though, he should really take a look at that bite, since it shouldn’t have affected the muggle that much. There’s a pattering of footsteps up the hallway, and the door creaks open with a tentative knock.

“I thought you might like a hot drink?” Lance’s voice can be heard next to him, and Keith makes no move. There’s a hushed thank you as Shiro accepts a mug, but Keith doesn’t turn around. He can hear the clink of the cup being set on the bedside table and a frustrated huff.

“Hey, Mr. Kogane,” Shiro tries to grab Keith’s attention, but Keith ignores him. “Cocoa?”

Nothing.

“Toilet’s down the hall to the right,” Lance finally says, a touch of irritation in his voice and he marches out of the door, the door clicking shut behind them. As soon as Lance’s footsteps disappear down the hall, Keith bolts out of the bed, coat still on and Shiro gapes at him, astonished.

“What—“

Keith props his suitcase on the floor and opens it, stepping in and down the steps. Upon hearing the small shout of alarm, he raises a hand out of the suitcase to gesture at Shiro to follow him.

“Come on,” he calls from the inside of his case, and the other man follows, albeit hesitantly.

“Watch your step,” Keith adds as Shiro shakily makes his way down the ladder, and Keith gets to work, bottles clinking together as he searches for the right one and ducking to pull out some leaves.

“Will you sit down?” He says, glancing at Shiro, who carefully seats himself on a crate, and Keith moves forward to just glance at the bite—finally, he can properly see it, and yeah, It’s really not good.

“Definitely the Murtlap,” Keith determines. “You’re particularly susceptible, huh? Well, you are a muggle, our physiologies are subtly different.”

He moves back to his workstation, crushing a few leaves together and the contents of various bottles before applying it to Shiro’s neck, who flinches.

“Just stay still,” he advises. “That should stop the sweating, and these—“ he hands Shiro a couple pills—“should stop the twitching.”

Keith moves towards the back, removing the heavy coat and the bowtie, and hacks at a large carcass with a large butcher’s knife, dumping the chunks of meat into a bucket, and pressing the pail into Shiro’s hand with a muttered, “Take that”. He then focuses on a spiny cocoon, holding it over a vial and squeezing it.

“Come on…come on,” he murmurs as luminous venom drips into the vial.

“…What is that?” Shiro asks, clutching the bucket, and Keith looks at the creature, then at Shiro.

“Well, this is more generally known as ’Swooping Evil’—not the friendliest of names, but it’s quite an agile fellow.”

He flicks the cocoon, which unravels, elegantly dangling from his finger.

“I’ve been studying him,” Keith continues. “I am pretty sure that the venom could be useful if properly diluted. Y’know, for removing bad memories.”

Quite suddenly, Keith throws the creature towards Shiro and it expands bursting out of the cocoon and howling in Shiro’s face. It’s a magnificent creature—bat-like, spiky, and colorful, and Shiro recoils, horrified, as Keith recalls it with a chuckle.

“Probably shouldn’t let him loose in here, though,” Keith adds as an afterthought.

He pushes open the door of his shed, and motions for Shiro to follow him.

“Come on,” he calls, and Shiro follows him, quite bemused by his surroundings.

Keith’s suitcase look be tiny at first glance, but it holds many, many worlds in there. Each of his creatures have their perfect, appropriate habitat, and as Shiro looks around in amazement, Keith heads over to the nearest one—the Arizona desert. It’s more dry and arid, but it has the most beautiful Thunderbird Keith had ever had the pleasure to meet. Upon greeting the creature, he inspects its legs, noting how well the wounds have healed. The thunderbird rises, flapping its wings, and the desert section fills with a torrential downpour, thunder, and lightning. Keith raises his wand, creating a magical umbrella to shield himself from the rain.

“Come on,” he murmured at the creature. “Come on down—yes, that’s it, down you come…”

Slowly but surely, the thunderbird calms down, lowering itself onto a large rock and blinking at Keith, and almost instantly, the rain dies down and is replaced by a brilliant, hot sunshine. Keith lowers his wand and pulls out a handful of grubs, instantly catching the thunderbird’s attention. Reaching out, Keith strokes the thunderbird with his free hand, and it nuzzles his hand.

“If you’d have gotten out, that would have been quite catastrophic, wouldn’t it?” He said to the thunderbird, who coos back at Keith, and then Keith turns to Shiro.

“You see, he’s the real reason I came to America. To bring Frank home.”

Shiro takes a step forward, in awe of the thunderbird, and the thunderbird flaps his wings again, suddenly quite agitated, and Keith hurriedly reaches out to him, trying to keep him calm.

“No, sorry—stay there,” he quickly says to Shiro, who freezes. “He’s just a bit sensitive to strangers.”

He murmurs soft, comforting words to the creature, stroking him and slowly, the creature settles down again.

“Here you are…here you are…”

Once the thunderbird is more peaceful and calm, Keith turns back to Shiro again.

“He was trafficked, you see. I found him in Egypt, he was all chained up. Couldn’t leave him there, had to bring him back. I’m going to put you back where you belong, aren’t I, Frank?” He turned to the thunderbird, smiling affectionately, and Frank blinks owlishly. “To the wilds of Arizona.”

Keith reaches out and hugs Frank’s head and Frank’s feathers ruffle, pushing himself towards Keith in a show of affection for his care-taker. Grinning, Keith pulls back and tosses the handful of grubs in the air, and Frank leaps up, soaring majestically after them, sunlight glinting off his wings.

Keith then turns around after a minute of watching Frank fly—he’s so proud of Frank, goddamn it—and places his hands near his mouth, letting out an animalistic roar, and Shiro jumps.

“What in the blazes—“

“Come on!”

Keith grabs the bucket of meat and runs off towards another sector, brushing aside some Doxies as they buzz around his head, and lets out the same roar, having stopped in a sandy, moonlit territory.

“What are you doing?” Shiro asks, having caught up, and Keith doesn’t acknowledge him.

“Ah—here they come,” he instead murmurs, and Shiro raises an eyebrow.

“Here who comes?  
“The Graphorns, of course!”

Large creatures come charging into sight, and Shiro yelps, backing away as the Graphorns come closer and closer, but Keith grabs a hold of his arm, stopping him from running.

“It’s okay, you’re alright,” he assures Shiro, and a Graphorn comes closer to Keith, nudging him in the leg.

“Oh, hello!” Keith beams, stroking the Graphorn, and the slimy tentacles of the creature rest on Keith’s shoulder, seeming to embrace him.

“They’re the last breeding pair in existence,” Keith informs Shiro. “If I hadn’t managed to rescue them, that could have been the end of Graphorns—forever.”

One Graphorn trots over to Shiro, licking the man’s hand and circling around him, and Shiro stares back at it before hesitantly reaching out and stroking his head.

“Woah…”

Keith grins, and then picks up the bucket of meat. He throws a piece into the enclosure, and the baby Graphorn abandons Shiro and chases after it, pouncing on the meat and devouring it.

“So what—you just rescue these creatures?” Shiro asks in awe, and Keith nods.

“Yeah, that’s right. Rescue, nurture, and protect them, and I’m gently trying to educate my fellow wizards about them.”  
Keith heads up a small ramp of stairs, entering a bamboo wood, weaving his way through the trees, occasionally ducking to avoid a branch.

“Titus?” Keith calls out. “Finn? Poppy, Marlow, Tom?”

They emerge into a small, sunlit glade, and Keith pulls Nova out of his pocket and holds the bowtruckle in his hand, approaching the sole tree in the center of the glade.

“He had a cold,” Keith explains to Shiro. “He needed some body warmth.”

“Aw.”

As Keith approaches the tree, a clan of Bowtruckles chatter and rush out of the leaves to greet him. Keith extends his arm towards the tree, trying to convince Nova to let go and rejoin his friends, and the other bow truckles clack noisily at Nova.

“Right, on you hop,” Keith encourages Nova, but Nova clings onto his arm, unwilling to let go.

“He has some attachment issues,” Keith calls back towards Shiro, and then tries to gently push Nova onto the tree. “Now come on, Nova. _Nova_. No, they’re not going to bully you….oh, come on Nova!”

Nova clings to Keith’s fingers with his spindly hands, clearly desperate, and Keith sighs, resigning himself to the fact that the bowtruckle wasn’t going to let go.

“Oh, all right. But this is _exactly_ why they accuse me of favoritism, you know,” he says to Nova, placing the bowtruckle on his shoulder, and then he turns around. There’s a large, round, empty nest on the other side of the glade, and the vacancy reminds Keith of his creatures, alone in the human world. Finding them is his top priority, God knows what would happen to his creatures if they were found by humans. Chirping sounds fill the air, and Keith moves towards the source of the noise.

“All right, I’m coming…” he replies, approaching a nest and crouching down. “I’m here, Mum’s here—Mum’s here.”

He reaches into the nest and scoops up a baby Occamy, which coos in his hands, staring back at him.

“Ah, hello,” Keith says to the Occamy. “Let me take a look at you.”

“Hey, I know these guys,” Shiro says suddenly, and Keith hums.

“New Occamy,” he says, and then glances at Shiro. “Your Occamy.”

“What do you mean?” Shiro frowns. “My Occamy?”

“Yes—do you want to…?” Keith trails off, gesturing to the baby Occamy he’s carrying, and Shiro splutters.

“Oh wow….Yeah, sure. Okay,” he stumbles over his words, accepting the Occamy and holding the new born creature in his hands gently. He moves to stroke the head, but the Occamy nips at his fingers, and Shiro jerks his hand back.

“Ah, no, sorry—don’t pet them,” Keith warns. “They learn to defend themselves early. See, their shells are made of silver, so they’re incredibly valuable.”

As Shiro holds the baby Occamy, Keith turns back to the nest and feeds the rest of them. They nip at his fingers, catching the food and gobbling it down, and Keith sits back and admires them.  
“Their nests tend to get ransacked by hunters,” he adds, glancing at Shiro, whose eyes are suspiciously glassy as he gazes at the Occamy. He gently takes back the Occamy from Shiro, placing it in the nest near its siblings, and Shiro clears his throat.

“Thank you….Mr. Kogane?”

“Call me Keith,” Keith replies.

“Keith…” Shiro glances around, dazed. “I don’t think I’m dreaming.”

“What gave it away?”

“I don’t think I can ever make this up,” Shiro confesses seriously, and Keith grins.

“Actually, would you mind throwing some of those pellets in with the Mooncalves over there?” Keith asks, and Shiro nods.

“Yeah, sure.”

He bends down and picks up the crate, toting it over to where Keith directed him, and while Shiro is tossing them to the creatures, Keith grabs the wheelbarrow near him and sets off farther down.

“Bugger,” he mutters, pushing the wheelbarrow. “Niffer’s gone. Of course he has, little bugger. Any chance to get his hands on something shiny.”

As Keith proceeds through the multiple mini worlds, he stops by several creatures, feeding them or checking in on them. He can faintly see Shiro, surrounded by the mooncalves, but when he looks back only a minute later after feeding one of the younger creatures in his case, Shiro is gone. Keith frowns, gently placing down the alien-like creature and briskly walks towards where Shiro should have been, and a curtain is billowing open, and a snowscape is revealed through it. Sure enough, Shiro had gone through there, approaching a black mass suspended in mid-air. An Obscurus. Keith sucks in a breath, pulling out his wand and stopping behind Shiro.

“Step back,” he says sharply, and Shiro jumps, turning around.

“Jeez—“

“I said, step back.”

“What the hell is this thing?” Shiro asks, stepping back, and Keith shakes his head.

“It’s an Obscurus.”

[[[

“What’s that?” He vaguely hear Shiro say but all he can remember is—

— _“Please, I don’t want to hurt you, let me help you”—_

_—“Get away from me! Don’t touch me!”—_

_—Screaming, explosions, and struggling against the chaos stirred by the_ _chil_ _d—_

_—“No—no, no, hey, stay with me, it won’t bother you no more now—no, no, open your eyes—“—_

_—She was only eight.—_

]]]

Keith abruptly turns away and heads back towards the hut, and Shiro follows him, quite understandably confused from the sudden change of mood and atmosphere.

“I need to get going,” Keith says briskly. “Find everyone who’s escaped before they get hurt.”

“Before _they_ could get hurt,” Shiro says, ducking to avoid a branch as they walk through a forest.

“Yes, Mr. Shirogane. See, they’re currently in alien terrain, surrounded by millions of the most vicious creatures on the planet.” They stop in a large savannah enclosure, which is very, very empty. “Humans.”

Keith turns to Shiro, cocking his head to the side. “So where would you say that a medium-sized creature that likes broad, open plains—trees—water holes—that kind of thing—where might she go?”

“In New York City?”

“Yes,” Keith confirms, and Shiro rubs the back of his neck, clearly thinking hard.

“Plains?” He shrugs. “Perhaps Central Park?”

“And where is that exactly?”

“Where is Central Park?” Shiro repeats, incredulous. “Well, look here, Keith. I would come and show you, but isn’t it kind of…well, a double cross? I mean, Lance and Allura were incredibly kind to let us stay—“

“You do realize,” Keith interrupts, a tad bit irritated, “that when they see you’ve stopped sweating, they’ll Obliviate you in a heartbeat, right?”

“What does that mean?”

“It’ll be like you wake up and all memory of magic is gone.”

“Wait…” he looks around, eyes wide. “I won’t remember any of this?”

“Nope.”

Shiro sighs. “All right, yeah—okay—I’ll help you.”

Keith picks up a bucket, looking at Shiro expectantly. “Come on then.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> of wayward nifflers and destroyed parks

Keith and Shiro are walking down an empty, deserted street of New York, surrounded by stores full of expensive jewelry, diamonds, and precious stones. It’s dark, and Keith squints to try to catch sight of any small movement. His niffler Kosmo would definitely be lured towards the shiny objects and Keith’s holding on to every single shred of hope that Kosmo would not be here. That would prove to cause problems with the muggle police.

“I was watching you at dinner,” he says, glancing at Shiro, who raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

“People like you, don’t they, Mr. Shirogane?”

Shiro’s eyes widen minutely before settling down in a contemplative expression. “Oh—well, I’m—I’m sure people like you too—huh?”

“Not really,” Keith replies truthfully. “I tend to make people uncomfortable.”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me,” Shiro mutters, and Keith scoffs. They walk in silence for a bit before Keith breaks the silence again.  
“Why did you decide to be a baker?”

“Oh.” Shiro looks down at his hands. “Ah, well, because I’m kind of dying in that factory—well, everyone is. It kinda just crushes the life out of you. You like canned food?” He asks, and Keith shakes his head.

“No.”

“Same. I hate it, but it was the easiest way to get a job after coming back from the war. That’s kind of why I want to make pastries, you know. Bring back some of my mother’s recipes….I have a lot of good memories making them with her.” He seems to drift off into his memories before shaking his head. “We’re going this way.”

Shiro heads towards the right, and Keith jogs to keep up with him.

“So did you get your loan?

“Er—“ Shiro rubs the back of his head. “No, I don’t got the collateral. Guess I stayed too long in the army, maybe—I don’t know.”

“You fought in the war, then?”

“Of course I fought in the war!” Shiro exclaims. “Everyone fought in the war—you didn’t?”

“I worked mostly with dragons—y’know, Ukrainian Ironbellies—Eastern Front.”

He stops suddenly, catching sight of a lone diamond earring resting on the hood of a rather magnificent Rolls-Royce, and then slowly looks downwards, and sure enough, diamonds are scattered across the pavement, forming a path that leads towards the window of one of the diamond shops on the street.

“Oh fuck,” he mutters, following the trail, keeping his footsteps as soft as he can, and creeps past the shop windows, peering through each one for Kosmo. There’s a sudden shift in movement and Keith halts, tiptoeing back to look at the display, and there Kosmo is, attempting to blend in by emulating a jewelry stand, arms outstretched and covered in diamonds.

Keith stares at Kosmo in disbelief, and Kosmo slowly turns around, making eye contact with him. There’s silence as the two stare each other down, and then all hell breaks loose as Kosmo scrambles away from the window, into the shop, and Keith whips out his wand.

“ _Finestra!_ ” He shouts, and the glass of the window shatters. Keith hurdles through and into the shop, ransacking the shop and searching through drawers and cupboards, looking for the estranged niffler. As he does so, he feels paws push off his shoulder, and Keith spins around, jumping onto the desk after Kosmo, who’s leaping from furniture to furniture, but then Keith stops as Kosmo balances on the crystal chandelier, balancing on the diamonds and climbing higher. He tries to reach out to grab the niffler, and he would have been able to safely grab Kosmo and get the hell out of the shop, but the desk shifted and he toppled over, grabbing onto the chandelier and now hanging from the ceiling. The chandelier, naturally, crashes to the floor, unable to support that much weight, and both Keith and Kosmo end up buried underneath the glass shards. Kosmo straight away is back up, clambering across the cases full of jewelry, and Keith is quick to follow. Keith chases the creature around the shop again and again, eventually ending up on top of a jewelry case that cannot support both their weight, and the case, with them at the top, falls and falls until it rests against the glass shop windows. Both clinging on the wooden case, Keith and Kosmo become very, very still, and then—of course—a crack appears on the window and spreads and spreads and then the window bursts open, shattering across the pavement, and Keith and Kosmo come crashing to the ground.

There’s only a moment of stillness before the niffler is racing down the street, but Keith pulls out his wand and shouts, “ _Accio!_ ”

The stupid, stubborn niffler is pulled towards Keith, but catches hold of a lamp pole, spinning around and flying towards another window, quite far away from Keith and Keith directs his wand towards the window, turning it into a sticky substance that finally traps Kosmo. He jogs over to the display, still covered in jewelry, pulling Kosmo free and facing him.

“All right? Happy?”

Police sirens can be heard in the background and Shiro runs over to them, holding Keith’s case.

“We’ve got to get out of here!” He gasps out, and Keith turns Kosmo around, shaking him vigorously, emptying the niffler’s pouch of all the diamonds stored in there. The cars come racing past them and muggle policemen pull up, running out and aiming guns at Keith and Shiro, who are substantially covered in jewelry and diamonds.

“Hands up!” One of them barks, and Kosmo peeks out of the pocket Keith had stuffed him into, eliciting a gasp from one of the officers.

“What the hell is THAT?”

Shiro glances to the left, terror slowly seeping across his face. “Lion.”

There’s a moment of silence before everyone turns towards the left, and the guns are now pointed in the direction of the magnificent lion that is on the other end of the street. The lion shakes its mane, stalking towards them, and Keith cocks his head to the side.

“You know,” he says to Shiro. “New York is considerably more interesting than I’d expected.”

He grabs a hold of the other man’s coat and they both disapparate before the policemen could look back at them.

They appear in a frost covered park and burst into a sprint, running through the fields and crossing an icy, slippery bridge. Keith can hear a loud rumble in the distance and he pauses, pulling out protective headgear out of his pocket and handing it to Shiro.

“Put this on,” he instructs, and Shiro stares at the helmet in his hands.

“Why do I need to wear something like this? Keith, what’s going on?”

“Well, your skull is susceptible to breakage under immense force,” Keith replies matter-of-factly, and dashes off, followed close by a terrified-looking Shiro.

—

“Did you remember to lock the door?” Allura says, stretching as she sits on her bed and Lance spares a glance at the door down the hallway, nodding.

“Yeah. But that was only one time, Allura. Literally one time. Two years ago.”

“That one time could have spelled bad news, _Lance_.”

He sits down on his twin bed on the other side of their room, across Allura’s own bed. They really couldn’t afford to have different bedrooms, but he didn’t think he wanted to change it. It was nice to share a room with someone. His sister sat on her bed, braiding her hair into the usual plait she wore to bed, and Lance watched her work.

“How are our guests settling?” She asks, and he sighs, flopping back on the bed and sighing loudly.

“Mr. Shirogane’s settled nicely. Mr. Kogane, though…I don’t know, ‘Lura, I have a bad feeling, he is so very impulsive.”

Allura hums, brushing out a section before weaving it in. “Sounds like someone I know.”

“Okay, but I would never let magical creatures loose in New York City. That’s just a whole different level. He’s putting the magical community at risk!”  
“But you did the same thing, if I recall correctly,” Allura remarks, finishing off the plait and tying it off with a piece of ribbon, tossing it over shoulder after. “You hexed that Barebone woman after she beat up her son—“

“She deserved it, Allura! Like hell I’m going to stand by as a women hurts her son like that!” Lance argues hotly, and Allura nods.

“I agree Lance, she definitely deserved it, but—“

There’s a resounding roar echoing from outside, and the siblings share a look before racing towards the window, pushing it open and leaning out of it, looking around. There it is again, that roar, the bellowing roar that reverberates through the winter night.

“Allura—what if they—“ he starts, but he doesn’t need to finish as she matches his expression and they race out of their room, dashing down the hall and banging open the door to the guest room they had given to Keith and Shiro. Lance’s heart sinks as he finds the beds empty and he growls under his breath in frustration. He spins on his heel, storming down the hall to dress. He’s going after them.

—

Keith and Shiro run up to a now half-empty zoo, the outer wall having been demolished in places, and a large pile of rubble lies at the entrance to the zoo. Another bellowing roar echoes around the brick building, and Keith pulls out a body protector, stepping behind Shiro to fasten it over him.

“So, you’ll need this, please do keep it on,” he says, and Shiro jerkily nods, watching him work.

“Okay.”

“Now,” Keith says, finishing safely fastening it and stepping back to look at Shiro in the eyes. “There’s absolutely nothing for you to be worried about.”

“Did anyone ever believe you when you told them not to worry?” Shiro asks with a nervous chuckle, and Keith shrugs. He stoops to pick up his case and then walks briskly over to the debris, Shiro following him closely from behind. They stop at the entrance, and a loud snort can be heard from within.

“She’s in season,” he informs Shiro. “She needs to mate about now.”

Sure enough, the Erumpent is nuzzling herself against the enclosure of a terrified hippo about five times smaller than she. Keith pulls out a small vial of liquid, pulling the stopper out with his teeth and spitting it to the side before dabbing a bit of it on his wrists. Shiro, who is next to him, makes a face at the smell, and Keith grins.

“It’s Erumpent musk—she’s mad for it.”

He passes Shiro the open bottle and heads into the zoo, towards the Erumpent, who is trying to get to the poor hippo. He places the case down near the Erumpent, and then slowly opens it, eyes on the creature. Taking a deep breath, he stands about a few feet away, and then performs a series of actions that is close enough to what the Erumpent mating ritual is—it took him a while to understand what to do, honestly. He lets out a echoing shout, dropping to the ground and rolling over, eyes on the Erumpent, and it only takes about a few minutes of him performing the strange actions before she finally finds him more interesting than the probably traumatized hippo.

The two circle around, facing each other, and the Erumpent’s horn glows a bright orange, eyes staring intently at Keith. He rolls on the floor, and the Erumpent copies him, moving closer and closer towards the case. So close, and Keith leads her closer to it.

“Good girl—come on—into the case…”

Just as she’s about to tip into the case, she stops and stands up, taking a deep breath, and then turns to Shiro, who’s frozen and strangely smelling of Erumpent musk. Oh fuck. Keith and Shiro exchange a wide-eyed glance and then the Erumpent lets out a loud bellow, charging towards Shiro. Shiro yelps and sprints away as fast as he can in the opposite direction, and the creature crashes through the rubble and ice ponds, chasing him across the snow-covered park.

Keith pulls out his wand, aiming it in their direction.

“ _Repar—_ “

Before he can finish the incantation, a baboon drops down out of nowhere and grabs his wand, running off and cackling.

“Oh, for the love of—“ Keith cries, exasperated, and casting one last worried glance at Shiro, who seems to be holding up well for the time being, he chases after the baboon. He chases down the monkey, face to face with the curious animal, who is currently examining his wand closely.

He reaches forward and breaks off a twig from a tree branch and holds it out to the baboon.

“See?” He offers, trying to persuade the monkey to trade with him. “They’re exactly the same thing. Same thing. Yeah?”

“KEITH!” He hears Shiro scream, and sure enough, Shiro is hanging from the tree branches, the Erumpent circling underneath him excitedly. Keith frantically turns towards the baboon, who is now shaking his wand curiously.

“No, no, no, don’t—“

The wand goes off with a bang, and the monkey is knocked backwards while the wand flies back to Keith.

“I’m so sorry—“ He quickly says to the baboon before racing off towards Shiro, who is about a couple seconds away from falling down from the tree, and the Erumpent plunges her horn into the trunk of the tree. The tree bubbles with glowing liquid before exploding and crashing to the ground, and Shiro is thrown off, rolling down a hill and out of sight. Keith dashes after the creature, who is following Shiro down towards the ice ponds, and as she hits the ice, she flails, caught of guard, and Keith skids down the hill and onto the ice, sliding over with his case open, and just as the Erumpent is getting closer and closer to Shiro—

—She’s gone, swallowed by the case. Both men pause, gasping for air, and then Keith turns to Shiro, amusement written all over his face.

“Good show, Mr. Shirogane.”

Shiro pushes himself to his feet, panting a bit, and turns to Keith, holding out his hand.   
“Please, call me Shiro.”

They shake hands, and then are faced with the problem of getting off the ice. They slip and slide across the frozen lake as fast as they can, and Keith is sure that there would be many bruises on his backside, come morning.

“Well,” he says as they reach the bank. “Two down, one to go.”

He sets open the case and turns to Shiro. “In you hop.”

Shiro disappears inside, and Keith follows, pulling the case shut, and the suitcase rests on the ground below the bridge, alone, as the two men descend into the hut.

Lance is pretty much so done with Keith. He had run out of the apartment immediately, despite Allura’s calls for him to stop and actually think about what he’s going to do—he doesn’t have time for that, a _criminal_ is doing who knows _what_ in the middle of New York City. He arrives at Central Park only to see Keith chasing after an…Erumpent. An Erumpent that was chasing after that No-Maj Shirogane. The mess they had created too was immeasurable and immediately after the two men disappeared into the case, Lance jumps out of his hiding spot and waves his wand, repairing the damage the park had sustained. Honestly, Keith should have known to clean up after himself at least! The No-Majs would never be able to explain these incidents, and it would only give the Second Salemers a field day.

He darts down the bridge side and sits on Keith’s case, flicking the latches shut. He glances off towards the entrance of the park, thoughts running through his head full-speed. Sighing, he gets up and picks up the case. He knows what he has to do now.

—

The hall is large and ornately decorated, and patriotic emblems are everywhere. Katie sips at her wineglass, propping her head on her hand, completely bored. She is surrounded by the crème de la crème of New York society, all of whom are seated to listen to Matt’s speech. He is planning on running for president—which, by the way, she thought was a terrible idea—but he is rather successful at the moment.

“Chin up, Katie,” her father whispers, and she silently groans before sitting up properly, smoothing out her clothes and taking a more dignified sip of her wine.

Why Matt wanted this so bad is beyond her. All she knew him as is the older brother who would play tricks on her, run experiments with her and read all day to her in the library. But, if she were being fair, he would be ten times, if not more, better as president than the current one they had.

“…and it’s true we have made some progress, but there is no reward for idleness,” her brother says, his signature smirk alight on his face. “So just as…”

He pauses, and everyone turns around towards the organ pipes towards the back of the room as it makes an ominous noise, and Katie frowns, squinting at it. Matt clears his throat, garnering the rest of the audience’s attention, and continues.

“…so now the pool halls, and these parlors—“

The noise grows louder and louder, and disconcerted muttering rises across the hall. Matt looks at Katie anxiously, and she shrugs, not understanding what is happening as well. The strange noise grows louder and louder and all of a sudden—

Everything explodes and something invisible but huge is soaring down the hall—tables fly, people are thrown aside, lights smash, and it darts towards the stage where Matt is and Katie opens her mouth to yell at him to run—

And he’s….gone. He just disappeared. Her father runs towards the stage, wide-eyed and frantic and the beast turns towards him and surrounds him and he’s—

gone.

Katie screams, the glass in her hands dropping and shattering on the stone floor, red liquid spreading across the impeccably clean floor, and she watches in terror, the beast rising and slashing at the posters, shattering the plates and glasses, and then it swarms back from where it came from and then…silence. She dashes through the whispering, shell-shock crowd, onto the stage and there’s no one there, no trace of her brother or father. She falls to her knees, and the crowd around her is sympathetic, murmuring how sorry they are and Don’t worry, Katie, I’m sure everything will turn out okay and—

No, it won’t be okay. She _knew_ there is something wrong, something off about the city these days. It _was_ magic. And she’s going to find her family and get to the bottom of this.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> of botched executions and MACUSA jailbreaks

Lance feels that he just might regret this as he runs up the lobby steps, past the groups of witches and wizards, huddled together and whispering nervously. But he can’t hesitate, this has gone too far. He rushes over to the elevator, and Red, the goblin bellboy, casts him a suspicious look.

“Again, McClain? When will you learn that you’re not wanted here?”

“Never mind that,” Lance snaps at Red, feeling a little more stung by that comment than he should have. “Pentagram Office. Now.”

Red cocks an eyebrow. “I don’t think you’re allowed to—“

Lance scowls at the goblin. “I’ve got something the president should see, it would solve half the problems we’ve got in New York.”  
Red studies him before shrugging, pressing a button on the elevator. “Your loss, McClain.”

They arrive at the floor and Lance hurries out, running towards the debating chamber and bursts through the doors.

“Madam President, I’m so sorry to interrupt, but this is critical—“

He falters, sliding to a halt in the middle of the marble floor, only then realizing what he had just walked into. The delegates from all over the world stare back at him, and Madam Ryner—the president of MACUSA—rises, eyes burning with fury.

“You’d better have an excellent excuse for this intrusion, Mr. McClain,” she remarks in a clipped tone, and Lance straightens, nodding tersely.

“Yes. I do.” He steps forward to address her. “Ma’am. Yesterday, a wizard entered New York with a case. This case full of magical creatures, and—unfortunately—some have escaped.”

“He arrived yesterday?” Madam Ryner echoes, frowning. “You have known for twenty-four hours than an unregistered wizard set magical beasts loose in New York and you see fit to tell us only when two men have disappeared, causing havoc in the No-Maj world?”

“What? Who’s been taken?”

Madam Ryner sighs, shaking her head. “Where is this man?”

Lance takes a deep breath, setting the case flat on the floor, and then, crouching down, knocks on the lid once, twice, and then after a second, it creaks open. Keith’s head pops out, looking around, and then he clambers out of the case, followed closely by a sheepish Shiro.

“ _Kogane_?” The British envoy says incredulously, and Keith glances over at the man, shutting the lid of his case.

“Oh—er—hello, Minister.”

“Kogane?” Another wizard repeats. “As in the son of Krolia Kogane, war hero?”

“That’s the one,” the British envoy says. “What in the name of Merlin are you doing here in New York?”

“I came to buy an Appaloosa Puffskein, sir,” Keith replies, clearly feigning innocence, and the British envoy cocks an eyebrow.

“Right. What are you really doing here?”

“McClain,“ Madam Ryner interrupts, staring at Shiro. “Who is this?”

“This is Takashi Shirogane, Madam President, he’s a No-Maj who got bitten by one of Mr. Kogane’s creatures,” Lance replies immediately, and the hall bursts into outraged whispers and murmurs, the dignitaries and MACUSA employees looking at the three furiously. Keith drifts towards the display of the destruction found in City Hall, along with the faces of the missing No-Majes.

“Good Lord,” he murmurs, and one of the delegates spares an unreadable glance at him.

“You know which of your creatures was responsible, Mr. Kogane?” she asks, and Keith looks at her, frowning.

“No creature did this—no, don’t pretend!” He added in response to many delegates’ dubious looks. “You must know what that was; look at the marks in the buildings, the flag…”

He pauses and then turns to the delegates, grim-faced. “That was an Obscurus.”

There is mass consternation, muttering, exclamations, which is silenced by Madam Ryner, who glares at Keith.

“You go too far, Mr. Kogane,” she says sharply. “There is no Obscurial in America. Impound that case, Niko!”

Niko summons the case with a wave of his wand, and the case lands right next to him. Keith, panicking, draws his wand and points it at Niko.

“No—no, give that back—“

“Arrest them!” Madam Ryner declares, and a dazzling eruption of spells hit Keith, Shiro, and Lance, forcing them to their knees, hands behind their backs. Keith’s wand flies out his hands and straight into Niko’s, who stands up and picks up the case. They struggle against the magical restraints, and Keith casts a frightened glance at his case and then pleadingly looks at Niko.

“No—no—don’t hurt this creatures—please, you don’t understand—nothing in there is dangerous, nothing!”

“We’ll be the judge of that, Mr. Kogane,” Madam Ryner informs him, and then turns to the Aurors standing behind Keith, Lance, and Shiro. “Take them to the cells.”

They are forced to their feet, and with a wave of the Aurors’ wands, they’re being dragged away down the hall, and Keith cries out, screaming for them to leave the case, there’s nothing dangerous in there, his children are in there—

“Don’t hurt those creatures—there’s nothing in there that’s dangerous! Please don’t hurt my creatures—they wouldn’t hurt a fly…Please, they’re not dangerous—“

An Auror stabs his wand into Keith’s throat, glaring at him. “Shut up before I make you.”  
Keith casts another helpless look down the hallway before falling silent, looking down at his feet. They reach the end of the hall and turn right, descending down the stairs and finally reaching a row of cells, throwing the three in before the Aurors lock the door and step away. As soon as the Aurors leave, Keith rounds on Lance, furious.

“Why the _fuck_ did you do that?” He shouts at Lance, and Lance is low key terrified by the angry look on Keith’s face, but he stares him down, eyes steely.

“Do you even realize what you’ve done from the moment you stepped foot in New York City?” Lance replies sharply, crossing his arms. “You’ve caused nothing but mass destruction and havoc, or did that not cross your mind yet?”

“Do you think I wanted that to happen? God knows what will happen to my creatures now…” He turns away, sliding down the wall and down into a corner on the floor, head in his hands. Lance reaches out, inhaling sharply.

“Mr. Kogane—“

“Don’t,” he snaps at Lance, who backs away, settling into a corner opposite Keith. There’s an uncomfortable silence that falls upon all three of them, and it lasts for God knows how long, and it must’ve been hours until Lance breaks the silence again.

“Mr. Kogane, I—I’m so sorry about your creatures,” he says quietly. “I truly am.”

Keith moves his head to face away from Lance, and Shiro leans towards Lance, clearing his throat softly.

“Can someone please tell me what this Obscurial—Obscurius thing is? Please?”

“There hasn’t been one for centuries—“ Lance starts to explain, but Keith interrupts him, still staring at the floor near the bars.

“I met one in Sudan three months ago,” he says, his voice a bit rough from a combination of emotion and disuse. “There used to be more of them but they still exist. Before wizards went underground, when we were still being hunted by Muggles, young wizards and witches sometimes tried to suppress their magic to avoid persecution. Instead of learning to harness or to control their powers, they developed what was called an Obscurus.”

“It’s an unstable, uncontrollable Dark force that kind of, well, bursts out and—and attacks…then it vanishes…” Lance explains in response to Shiro’s confused look, and then pauses, eyes wide.

“What?” Shiro asks, but Lance ignores him, staring at Keith.

“Obscurials can’t survive long, can they?” He asks, and Keith sighs.

“There’s no documented case of any Obscurial surviving past the age of ten. The one I met in Africa was eight when she—“ Pain flashes across his face, and he looks down. “She was eight when she died.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Shiro says, looking between the two. “You’re telling me that a kid managed to kidnap the senator and Mr. Holt?”

Keith’s look says everything.

It’s only an hour later when two executioners in white coats lead a shackled Keith and Lance down to a dark basement away from the cell, and Keith turns to look back at Shiro, who is watching them through the bars of the cell.

“It was good to make your acquaintance, Shiro,” Keith calls over his shoulder. “I hope you get your bakery.”

Shiro waves forlornly at Keith, clutching the bars, and Keith turns back around, face grim as the two are led to a small, bare room, black-walled and windowless. Niko walks in briskly and Keith is forced down into the chair in front of the desk as Niko sits down, opening a file in front of him. A bright light turns on and Keith squints forward, trying to see past the light. Lance is standing behind him, flanked by two executioners, waiting for their orders.

“You’re an interesting man, Mr. Kogane,” Niko says, and Lance steps forward.

“Mr. Niko—“

Niko holds a finger to his lips patronizingly, signaling for Lance to be silent, and Lance bows his head, stepping back into the shadows behind Keith. Niko picks up the file and examines it, slowly, slowly flipping through the pages.

“So. You were thrown out of Hogwarts for endangering human life—“

“That was an accident!” Keith argues.

“—with a beast,” Niko continues, giving Keith a reprimanding look. “Yet one of your teachers argued strongly against your expulsion. Now, what makes Kolivan so fond of you?”

There’s a moment of silence and then Keith shakes his head. “I really couldn’t say.”

“So setting a pack of dangerous creatures loose here was just another accident…is that right?”

Niko’s eyes bore deep into Keith’s, and Keith glares right back.

“Why in Merlin’s name would I do it deliberately?”

“Well, to expose wizardkind, for one. To provoke war between the magical and non-magical worlds.”

“Mass slaughter for the greater good, you mean?”

“Yes,” Niko agrees. “Quite.”

Keith scowls at Niko. “I’m not one of Zarkon’s fanatics, Mr. Niko.”

Niko seems to recoil a bit, now looking at Keith with contempt and anger.

“I see…” he bends over and picks up Keith’s case, placing it on the table. “I wonder what you can tell me about this, Mr. Kogane?”

He moves his hand slowly, and the Obscurus from Keith’s case rises into the air, and with a flick of his hand, Niko brings it onto the desk. It’s pulsing, swirling, hissing, and Keith’s eyes widen. Niko reaches a hand towards the creature, completely fascinated, and as he comes closer, the Obscurus swirls faster, bubbling and shrinking backwards.

Keith quickly turns to Lance, who is staring at the Obscurus in disbelief, and a part of him (or more) has to—needs to—convince him that it’s not what it looks like.

“It’s an Obscurus, b-but it’s not what you think. I managed to separate it from the Sudanese girl, you see, as I tried to save her—I wanted to take it home, to study it—“

Lance is now staring at him, jaw slightly dropped from shock, and Keith shakes his head. “It can’t survive outside that box, it couldn’t hurt anyone, Lance!”

“So it’s useless without it’s host, then?” Niko asks, and Keith whips around to face him, incredulous.

“Useless?” Keith echoes, a bit dangerously. “ _Useless_? That right there is a parasitical magical force that killed a child. What on earth would you use it for?”

He glares at Niko, and Lance, behind him, stares at them both, concern and trepidation written across his face. Niko takes a deep breath, standing up and shaking his head.

“Mr. Kogane…you fool nobody. You brought this Obscurus into the city of New York in the hope of casting mass disruption—breaking the Statute of Secrecy and revealing the magical world—“

“You _know_ that can’t hurt anyone, you know that!” Keith yells, but Niko plows forward, making no indication of having heard him.

“—you are therefore guilty of a treasonous betrayal of your fellow wizards and are sentenced to death. Mr. McClain, who has aided and abetted you—“

“No, he’s done nothing of the kind—“

“—he receives the same sentence,” Niko finishes, leveling him with a piercing look. He nods at the executioners, who step forward, pressing the tips of their wands into Keith’s and Lance’s necks. Lance is now breathing shallowly, staring ahead at Niko and Keith is forced to his feet by the executioner who has their wand in his neck. They make eye contact, and Lance’s eyes are blown wide with terror and his hands are shaking slightly.

“Just…” Niko sighs, looking away and waving at the executioners. “Do it immediately. I will inform President Ryner myself.”

“Lance,” Keith says to the man, almost beseechingly, but Niko shushes him, placing a finger to his lips.

“Shh.” He gestures to the executioners. “Please.”

Lance and Keith are pushed forward and led out of the office, and down the hall to the death cell.

—

There’s something so unglamorous about sitting at a low-level work desk and typing away at a boring memo, but Allura would take whatever she can get. It’s embarrassing, but she swears that she will one day qualify to be of higher position.

“Hey, they’re asking for coffee,” a voice ahead of her says, and she looks up, frowning as another wizard leans against the doorway.

“Now?”

“Yeah, you better get going,” he says. “Before they find fault with you again.”

Allura sighs, getting up and pushing her chair in before promptly walking out of the door to fetch the coffee. A few minutes later, she’s toting a tray of cups and teaspoons towards the meeting room, and that’s when she hears it. Panic is the first thing she senses. And then it starts echoing in her mind—the terrified sobbing, and Allura immediately knows whose it is.

No.

Oh God, No.

She stumbles to a halt, the tray slipping from her hands and crashing to the floor, but she barely registers it. The group of low-level MACUSA functionaries she was bringing coffee for stare at her, and she stares back, horrified, before backing away and then turning around, running down the corridor.

—

It’s funny, really. Keith, growing up, had imagined death so often, had known that he wouldn’t survive to be old. He was a wild kid, a temperamental, angry kid who was willing to fight anyone and everyone. Of course his flame would burn out quickly; he was a brightly lit match, burning strongly for only a short amount of time. But if he were honest, this is not the way he imagined he would go.

They’re being led down a long, black, metallic corridor into a pure white cell, which consists of a chair suspended magically over a square pool of a rippling black potion. They’re forced into it, and Keith spares a glance at Lance, who is pretty much on the verge of a panic attack, and behind them, the door swings shut, a guard manning it.

“Don’t do this—“ Lance breathes out, terrified, to the executioner holding him on wand point. “Please—“

“It don’t hurt,” the executioner says soothingly, a smile on her face, and Lance is pushed forward the the edge of the pool. His breathing is more erratic, more heavier, and his eyes dart around before becoming strangely vacant as the smiling executioner raises her wand, extracting Lance’s memories. Keith watches, slightly horrified, as the executioner casts them into the potion, which ripples, coming alive with various scenes from what Keith assumes is Lance’s life.

_A younger Lance laughs, being tickled a pair of hands, and then a voice calls out, “Lance…Lancito, come on, mijo, time for bed.”_

“Mama,” Lance murmurs, looking into the potion, and smiles as his mother—a beautiful, young woman with wavy hair and kind eyes—appears in the pool, her expression warm and full of love. His mother leans down and picks up the younger Lance in her arms, walking off somewhere, off into the distance, and the executioner smiles at Lance.

“Don’t that look _good_. You wanna get in?”  
Lance nods vacantly, eyes on the scenes changing on front of him, and the other executioner near Keith nods at the one next to Lance, and the one next to Lance helps him onto the chair that is hovering above the potion. Lance clearly isn’t present anymore, he’s too enraptured by the scenes in front of him. The images change—all happy ones—and Keith can spot different scenes of his family—his father, his sister Allura, and Lance and Allura chasing each other through the house, and then it changes to a more older Lance, wearing the same coat he was wearing when he first found Keith (seems like a lifetime ago, really), and he’s walking into a church and up the stairs, coming across—

Keith sucks in a breath at the scene in front of him. That woman—the woman who had addressed him the first day he had been in New York—was standing over the boy, belt in hand, and the boy…the boy looked terrified, in pain, and hunched over. In the memory, Lance casts a spell out of anger, striking the woman, and then moves forward to comfort the boy.

“ _It’s okay_ ,” Keith can hear the memory-Lance speak softly to the boy, and he looks at the real Lance, who is hovering over the image and smiling almost wistfully at it. There’s a soft clicking noise behind him and Keith quickly glances down his own arm—Nova is clambering, quiet and agile, towards his shackles and Keith quickly looks up, hiding his smile. A few quick seconds and his shackles are unlocked, and he watches out of the corner of his eye as Nova climbs onto the executioner’s coat. The executioner next to him turns to him and raises her wand, saying softly, “Okay, let’s get the good stuff out of you—“

But as she raises her wand to his head, Keith leaps backwards out of the way before thrusting his hand out and revealing the Swooping Evil, which he had kept on him, and throwing it towards the pool. He then turns to the guard, who’s pulling out his wand and swiftly punches him, knocking him out cold. His executioner suddenly yelps in pain, shaking her arm and trying to get Nova off and raising her wand to fire at him when Keith lunges forward, grabbing her arms and aiming the wand at the other executioner near Lance. The other executioner drops to the floor, her wand rolling into the pool, and the potion immediately engulfs it, turning the memories Lance sees into more terrible ones. The scene changes to the woman pointing aggressively at Lance, screaming, “Freak! Witch!”

Lance is still entranced by the pool, but he’s looking more and more terrified, and his stool is lowering closer and closer to the deadly potion, and the Swooping Evil, which had been circling around the pool, knocks the executioner near Keith to the ground, rendering her unconscious. Just then, Lance snaps out of his reverie and immediately notices that he’s pretty much about to die.

“MR. KOGANE!” He screams, standing up on the chair as the potion starts to rise, surrounding him, and he almost falls off in his haste. He desperately tries to regain his balance, sparing a terrified glance at Keith.

“DON’T PANIC!” Keith shouts back.

“WELL, WHAT DO YOU SUGGEST I DO INSTEAD?”

Keith makes a clicking sound, commanding the Swooping Evil to circle around the pool again.

“Jump.”

Lance casts a disbelieving, fearful glance at the creature, and then back at Keith. “Are you MAD?”

“Jump on him!”

Keith edges towards the pool, intently watching the creature circle around Lance again and again.

“Lance, listen to me,” he says in his most confident, calming voice (he hopes it works). “I’ll catch you, Lance. Come on!”

They make eye contact, and Keith nods, trying to reassure Lance that it was going to be okay, but the potion is rising higher and higher, almost to Lance’s full height, and Keith is losing sight of Lance quickly.

“I’ll catch you. I’ve got you, Lance,” Keith keeps repeating insistently, and Lance steels himself, eyes straight on Keith. “GO!” Keith cries out, and Lance jumps between two of the rising waves just as the Swooping Evil passes. He lands on its back, only inches away from the deadly liquid and then stumbles forward onto concrete edge of the pool and straight into Keith’s open arms with a yelp, grasping at Keith’s coat for balance. Keith holds on to Lance tightly, extending an arm and recalling the Swooping Evil, which folds into a cocoon once more.

Keith pulls away from their tight embrace, grabbing Lance’s hand and dashing for the exit. “Come on!”

The alarm must have been set off, because as soon as they burst into the basement, there was a blaring sound echoing in the air and they were confronted by a group of Aurors. Lance and Keith dive behind pillars, narrowly missing the fired spells and curses, and Keith turns around and sends out the Swooping Evil, watching it swirl overhead and then dive between pillars, blocking curses and knocking Aurors to the ground. Once it’s deemed safe enough to move, the two run out of their hiding spaces and down the hallway, Keith clicking at the creature to leave the Auror it was currently interested in.

“Leave his brains, come on! Come on!”  
They run onwards, the Swooping Evil flying after them, successfully blocking curses as it goes, and Lance looks over his shoulder at the creature.

“What _is_ that thing?”

“Swooping Evil,” Keith replies breathlessly as they dash through the basement, and Lance lets out a sudden laugh.

“Well, I love it!”

They turn the corner and almost collide with Allura and Shiro, and Allura has Keith’s case and Lance’s wand in her hands. They stare at each other, and Allura casts a glance over their shoulders and then at them, flustered.

“Well?” She says, gesturing to the case. “Get in!”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> of magical bars and suspicious No-Majes

Allura never felt more excited when working at MACUSA. Her usual workday typically is more…well, boring. And lame, and so many other negative things. But this is part terrifying and part exciting, and I love it, she thinks as she hurriedly walks through the atrium, smiling at anyone who threw a glance in her general direction.

As soon as she had realized what was happening to Lance and Keith, she had completely abandoned her job and decided that the best way to go about her rescue mission was to find Shiro. But the problem, she had decided as she stood in the busy lobby, was that she didn’t know if Shiro had been obliviated or not yet. Just then, the elevator doors dinged pleasantly and opened, revealing—right on time—Shiro and the Obliviator. Perfect timing, she had thought, hurrying to them and then walking right alongside them. Shiro leaned over to glance at her, confused, and she nodded slightly, plastering a beaming smile and tapping Sam, the Obliviator, on the shoulder.

“Hey Sam,” she greeted him, and Sam nodded at her.

“Hey Allura.”

“They need you downstairs,” she informed him. “I’ll Obliviate this guy.”

“You ain’t qualified,” was the gruff answer she received, and she sighed, grim-faced.

“Hey, Sam—does Cecily know you’ve been seeing Ruby?” She asked him innocently, right off reading his mind, and Sam spluttered in shock.

“How’d you—?” He choked out, and she gave him a sugary smile.

“Let me Obliviate this guy and she’ll never hear about it from me,” Allura proposed, and a very stunned Sam backed away as Allura seized Shiro’s arm and marched off across the lobby.

“What are you doin’?” Shiro asked her, and Allura shushed him.

“Shh! Lance is in trouble, I’m trying to listen—“

A minute passed as Allura attempted to read Lance’s mind, and then she turned to Shiro gravely.

“Shiro, where’s Keith’s case?”

“That guy Niko took it—“

Allura inhaled sharply, and then turned around. “Okay, come on—“

“Wait a bit, you’re not going to Obliviate me?” Shiro questioned, frowning, and Allura scoffed, smiling.

“Of course not,” she assured him, and they both ran towards the main staircase, Allura leading the way to Niko’s office. They received many stares as they raced past, but Allura could’ve cared less as she raced down the hallway down to Niko’s office, Shiro right behind her. Left, left, right, straight ahead….she skidded to a halt in front of his office, bending over and catching her breath for a second before straightening up, drawing her wand and aiming it at the door.  
“ _Alohomora_ ,” she whispered, but nothing happened. “ _Aberto!_ ”

Nothing.

Cursing under her breath, she turned around. “Of course he would know a fancy spell to lock his office.”

“Hey, let me try something. Might want to move out of the way,” Shiro said, and she stepped to the side as he glanced around before kicking the door open.

“Well, that’s one way to do it,” she remarked, running in and grabbing Lance’s and Keith’s things as Shiro stood guard. Only a minute later, they were running down the hallway as the alarm started to blare in the background, and other wizards hurried past them in the opposite direction. A commotion rose ahead of them, and that could only mean that Lance and Keith were there. Shiro and Allura picked up their pace and almost collided head on with the other two, and she quickly forced everyone into the case.

Which is why, right now, she is hurrying out of the MACUSA lobby, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Just then, a flustered Morvok emerges from a crowd of wizards, and she mentally groans.

“Allura!” He calls as she reaches the top of the stairs, and she turns around, composing herself. Morvok moves towards her, straightening his tie and trying to appear calm and authoritative. He’s not fooling anyone, though.

“Where are you going?” He asks Allura with a large smile, and Allura thinks quickly, putting on a more innocent expression and holding the case behind her.

“I—I’m really sick, Mr. Morvok,” she says, and gives a cough to accompany her lie.

Morvok sighs. “Again? What’ve you got there?” He gestures to the case, and she beams at him.

“Y’know, ladies’ things. You want to take a look?” Allura offers, stepping closer and holding it out. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh—Oh God, no! I—You feel better now!” He chokes on air, flustered, and she shoots him a smile.

“Thanks!”

She immediately turns around and hurries down the stairs, out of the lobby and into the bustling streets of New York.

—

Keith never realized how beautiful New York City is when he’s not A) chasing his creatures across the city and B) not being chased by MACUSA Aurors and being sentenced to death. They’re on a rooftop that overlooks the city, and in the middle, there’s a small wooden shed, housing a pigeon coop. Allura had brought the case here since it is probably the safest place they can be without being found and arrested by the Aurors.

Lance joins Keith in standing on the ledge, and there’s a comfortable silence between them, and in the background, Allura and Shiro can be heard softly talking to each other.

“Niko always insisted the disturbances were caused by a beast,” Lance says, breaking the silence. “We need to catch all your creatures so he can’t keep using them as a scapegoat.”

“Well, there’s only one still missing. Dougal, my Demiguise,” Keith replies, and Lance turns to look at him.

“Dougal?”

“Er—slight problem is that….um, he’s kind of invisible,” Keith admits sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, and the corners of Lance’s mouth twitch upwards.

“Invisible?”

“Yes—most of the time…he does…um—“

“How do you even catch something that—?”

“With immense difficulty,” Keith interrupts with a hint of a smile.

“I see,” Lance replies with a chuckle. They smile at each other, and Lance’s smile does something to Keith that he really, _really_ would prefer not to think about. It isn’t the time, and—Lance is stepping closer to Keith and then leans in and—  
“Gnarlak,” Lance says with a wide smile, and Keith frowns, quite taken aback.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Lance looks around, and then leans in closer conspiratorially. “Gnarlak—he was an informant of mine when I was an Auror! He used to trade in magical creatures on the side—“

“So he wouldn’t happen to have an interest in paw prints, would he?” Keith slowly says, and Lance shrugs, matching his smile.

“He’s interested in anything he can sell.”

An hour later, Lance is leading them down an insalubrious back alley covered in bins, crates, and random discarded objects. There are the occasional rats that squeak and dart out of the way as Keith walks by, and they stop at a set of steps leading to a basement apartment. Lance motions them down, and then steps appear to lead to a dead end: the doorway is bricked up.

The “doorway” has a poster of a simpering debutante in an evening dress, gazing at her image in a mirror, and Allura and Lance stand in front of the poster. They raise their wands, and their work clothes transform into something more elegant, more formal and stylish. Allura now is dressed in a rather beautiful dress, going down to mid-calf while Lance is fitted in a blazer and dress pants, a deep navy blue and matching his sister. He glances at Keith, an embarrassed smile on his face before stepping towards the poster and raising his hand slowly. As he does so, the eyes of the debutante move upwards, following his every move, and he slowly knocks on the door four times.

Keith quickly magics himself a smaller bowtie, feeling the need to be more formal, and the hatch in the door opens, the painted eyes of the debutante whipping back to reveal the gaze of a suspicious guard. He eyes the group before narrowing in on Keith and then Lance before the door swings open and the four are allowed in.

It’s a seedy, low-ceilinged speakeasy that is filled with criminals and wizards alike, and the walls are covered in wanted posters, including Zarkon’s poster: _ZARKON: WANTED FOR NO-MAJ SLAYINGS IN EUROPE_.

There’s a glamorous goblin jazz singer crooning on a stage filled with musicians, smoky images wafting from her wand to illustrate the lyrics, and it gives the speakeasy a menacing yet fun vibe. Allura pulls Shiro aside to show him the drinks (and maybe get one) so Lance and Keith find a table and sit down, eyes out for the one called Gnarlack. Keith also takes the time to study the people in the room; hooded and heavily scarred witches and wizards gamble magical artifacts in a game with runic dice at the table across from them, and on the other side of the speakeasy, a house-elf is serving a drink to a giant, whose hand dwarfs the mug he is handed.

“I’ve arrested half of the people in here,” Lance says, looking around, and Keith nods.  
“Also…uh, you can tell me to mind my own business…but I saw something in that death potion thing back there. I saw you—well, hugging—that Second Salem boy.”

“His name’s Credence,” Lance replies, fiddling with the button of his blazer. “His mother beats him. She beats all those kids she adopted, but she seems to hate him the most.”

“And she was the No-Maj you attacked, then?”

Lance nods morosely. “Yeah. That’s how I lost my job. I went for her in a front of a meeting of her crazy followers—they all had to be Obliviated. It was a huge scandal.”

“Ah.”

Lance gives him a sideways look, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. “How long have you been so invested in magical creatures?”

Keith picks at a nail, shrugging. “I guess it was just…always? Dunno, I do remember always keeping some under my bed in my dorm and making them a home there,” he adds with a wistful smile.

“Good Lord, how’d you manage that?”

“Dedication, a knack for breaking rules, and honestly, a bit of luck,” Keith replies, and Lance raises an eyebrow.   
“A bit?”

“A lot,” he concedes. Allura sweeps over to their table before either can say anything more, throwing a look over her shoulder.

“It’s him,” she whispers, and they both look around her to stare at Gnarlak, a goblin who is smoking a cigar and sporting a business suit. Allura clicks her tongue and walks away as Gnarlak approaches their table and seats himself at the end, uninvited.

“So,” he says to Keith, waving at a house-elf to bring him a drink. “You’re the guy with the case full of monsters, huh?”

“News travels fast, huh?” Keith replies. “I was hoping you’d be able to tell me if there have been any sightings. Tracks. That sort of thing.”

Gnarlak regards him seriously as he downs his drink. “You’ve got a big price on your head, Mr. Kogane. Why should I help you instead of turnin’ you in?”

“I take it I’ll have to make it worth your while?” Keith asks, a bit irritated, and Gnarlak bares his teeth.

“Let’s consider it a cover charge.”

Keith pulls out a couple galleons from his coat pocket and slides them across the table to Gnarlak, who’s signing a document, and the goblin doesn’t bother looking up.

“MACUSA’s offering’ more than that, Kogane,” he says, unimpressed. Keith then brings out a lunascope, placing it on the table, and Gnarlak snorts.

“Lunascope? Got five already.”

Keith sighs, rummaging in his coat and pulls out a glowing, frozen ruby egg, placing it on the table.

“Frozen Ashwinder egg?”

Gnarlak gives him an appraising look. “You see—now we’re—“ He falters, eyes narrowing on Keith. “—wait a minute—that’s a Bowtruckle, right?”

Keith immediately looks down, catching sight of Nova retreating into his pocket and places a protective hand over the creature, looking back up at Gnarlak.

“Absolutely not,” he states firmly.

“Ah, come on, that’s a Bowtruckle, that is—they pick locks—am I right?”

“No, you’re not having him,” Keith repeats, and Gnarlak clicks his tongue, getting up.

“Well, good luck gettin’ back alive, Mr. Kogane, what with the whole of MACUSA on your back.”

He turns around and as Gnarlak walks away, Keith looks back at the bowtruckle and then at the goblin, trying to figure out what to do. His only lead to find Dougal is walking away as they speak, and the sooner they’re able to get Dougal and leave the better, so, sighing painfully, Keith reaches into his pocket and pulls out Nova, who clicks and chatters madly, grasping for Keith’s fingers.

“All right, fine,” Keith calls out to Gnarlak, who turns around, smiling viciously. Keith gets up and walks over to the goblin, holding out Nova, who’s now whining, reaching forward towards Keith, and Keith looks away, unable to look at the bowtruckle. Gnarlak takes Nova, studying the creature and grinning.

“Ah yeah…”

Keith clears his throat, and Gnarlak looks up at him. “Right. Somethin’ invisible’s been wreakin’ havoc around Fifth Avenue. You may wanna check out Macy’s. Might help with what you’re looking for.”

Keith nods. “Right, one last thing. There’s a Mr. Niko who works at MACUSA—I was wondering what you knew of his background.”

Gnarlak stares at him, and then glares. “You ask too many questions, Mr. Kogane. That can get you killed, you know.”

Just then, a crate of bottles come crashing onto the ground, followed by the shouts: “MACUSA ARE COMING!”

There are shouts, screams, and customers and house elves alike hurriedly disapparate out of the speakeasy.

Lance springs to his feet, glaring at Gnarlak. “You tipped them off!”

Gnarlak chuckles menacingly, smirking at them, and the wanted posters posted on the walls around them update to show Keith’s and Lance’s faces. Aurors begin apparating into the speakeasy, and Lance grabs Keith’s arm.

“We got to go—“  
“Nova! I need to find Nova!” Keith protests, pulling away and diving into the chaos, Lance following closely. Shiro punches Gnarlak, and the goblin flails, dropping the bowtruckle, and Keith scrambles about the floor, looking for Nova. Around him, people are running, diving away from the Aurors, trying to escape, and thankfully, Keith finds Nova whole and somewhat safe on the table leg. He grabs the creature and runs towards Lance, Allura, and Shiro.

They immediately clasp hands and disappear together, away from the MACUSA Aurors and the speakeasy.

—

Katie sits in the empty hall where her brother and father were last seen on the floor, holding out a device she had fashioned and monitoring the beeps it makes. She had built it in her spare times between various rallies she had been dragged to, and only her brother knew of it.

The various incidents leave a trace, she had realized. A sort of trace in the form of energy, and upon further inspection (and multiple trials and errors), it’s a sort of vibration that resides in the air before eventually dissipating. It’s not much, but it’s a start. So Katie designed an instrument of sorts to detect it—the more magic there was, the more the monitor picks up—and she’s now trying to differentiate the different traces she’s picking up.

“Holt? You still in there?” Another voice calls out and she yelps, fumbling with the tracker before stuffing it into her bag.

“Uh—yes, yes I am. Is there a problem?"

“The hall’s closing soon,” The voice replies, and footsteps echo louder as a young man comes into view. “Might wanna skedaddle before you’re forced out, Holt.”

Katie scowls, getting up and smoothing her clothes over. “Fine. Have a good night.”

“Back at ‘cha,” the young man replies, saluting her with two fingers, and she briskly walks out of the hall and onto the pavement. Behind her, the doors to the halls swing shut and the click of the lock resounds across the street.

It hadn’t been a total waste of time, though. Katie flips through her notepad, studying the waves and figures she’d scribbled down. Visiting all those sites really took up a lot of time, but it was _so worth it_. She turns the corner, still reviewing her data when there’s a large _snap_ behind her and she shrieks out of surprise, almost dropping her things, and looks around for the source of noise. It couldn’t have been a gun—they sound much, _much_ more different, and she turns back around, her pace picking up, and a group of four people run past her towards the department store in front of them—Macy’s, it reads—and as they run towards the department building, Katie hears a rapid beeping emanating from her bag. The monitor is going off, creating quite a racket, and as the group disappears, it starts to die down. Katie squints further at the department building, frowning, and then down at her monitor, then back up.

Her technology is never faulty, she knows that. So if her monitor went off…Katie quickly walks toward the Macy’s Department, face set and determined. They would know what happened.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fic on AO3, and uh…this has been sitting in my head for a while and I thought I’d just write it down for fun. I hope you all enjoy! Comments and kudos are much appreciated, I’d love some feedback!


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